


Clusterfuck Reinvented

by She_Who_Shall_Not_Be_Named



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mpreg, Nursing, Touring, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:04:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/She_Who_Shall_Not_Be_Named/pseuds/She_Who_Shall_Not_Be_Named
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What you need to know is this: it’s an alternative universe story in which, obviously, the impossible is possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [@SlipOutOfSight](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%40SlipOutOfSight).



> Of all the things one can write, this is one story I never, not even in a million years, ever considered writing and yet, here it is. Like I told my sweet other half, I totally blame her for this fic. *grins* Not trying to copy Adam’s ‘It started with a tweet’ thing here, but I swear, it all started with a DM. Next thing I know, we’re dm-ing back and forth and before I knew it…. Tada! This baby was in the making. 
> 
> Sisar, this one is for you! Thanks for all the support during the writing process. For being my soundboard and for cheering me on! I hope you like it. <3 
> 
> Also, I can’t stress it enough; this is fan fiction. Fiction still being the operative word. No disrespect what so ever to our boys and their real lives relationships.
> 
> PS: Updates will be weekly :)

“Prologue”

Ask anyone. They’ll all tell you; shit happens. However, in science, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. In some cases, when shit hits the fan, instead of finding a gigantic worthless clusterfuck, the outcome can have life changing consequences, in a very good way.  For instance; in 1928, Sir Alexander Flemming, physician and well respected microbiologist discovered, what would later be known as penicillin, by a fluke or better said due to an actual cross contamination of his samples.

In present time, Dr. Marcin Romanzinski, one of the leading professors in Regenerative Medicine and his team have been working for years on an innovating, regenerating drug for women who’d gone through breast, uterus or ovarian cancer. The medicine would become a pioneer in the healing process to all the women lucky enough to have survived this still deadly disease. Despite the on-going progress modern medicine continues to make, the battle is not only - in most cases - a very long one, it’s also and foremost a mental battle against the mutilation that results from the cancer. For many surviving women, the scars as a result of mastectomies, unilateral or bilateral oophorectomies or hysterectomies are far worse than the fight to beat the lethal killer itself. For many women and their partner, their desire of becoming a parent is taken away along with whatever’s removed from their or their spouses’ bodies.

The drug, that was in its final developing phase at the time, is a complex hormone preparation with high doses of Spironolacton, Clomifene, Medroxyprogesterone,  Progestorene and Oestradiol combined with stem cells that will actually be able to regenerate tissues destroyed by chemo or radiation or both. A simple biopsy of (relatively) healthy tissue before the patient undergoes any treatment is all that would be required should the drug be approved by the FDA. The tissue sample would be treated, if the patient’s sample was affected by cancer cells, before it would be re-implanted in the patient’s body after the cancer treatment.

The pressure to achieve the much wanted and highly anticipated results before the deadline was, as one can imagine, almost touchable and so close to be unbearable. In the end, each and every one involved in the process, from lab technician to assistant to professor felt it; the agonizing, at times paralyzing, feeling of stress. It’s this stress that causes one of Dr. Marcin Romanzinski’s assistants to accidently mix the DNA of an African reed frog to a hormone preparation. 

The expected clusterfuck doesn’t happen. Instead the outcome’s beyond anything he or anyone in the academic world would ever have held possible. The frog DNA mutates as a result of the hormones and mutates again with the DNA of the subject when injected and in doing so effectively changing the genital reproduction system of said subject. The mutation changes male subjects into females and female subjects into males, albeit on the inside only. Male lab rats develop what can be described as a uterus and working ovaries, while female lab rats develop something that’s really close to an internal testicle, capable of producing semen and an actual seminal duct. When the drug is no longer administrated or in case of success after the subject stopped nursing, the changes are undone and the original reproductive organs start to function again. All the while, during the entire duration of the treatment, each and every subject keeps their physical appearance.

Not even four years later, ‘EXH170’ as the medicine is named, is approved by every agency and commercialized. Needless to say, not only surviving cancer patients are over the moon with it but also, because well _duh,_ the entire LGTB community. Up until the release of the drug, same sex couples always had to involve a third party to the intimate process of becoming a parent.  Lesbian couples needed a sperm donation while gay couples needed an egg donation as well as a surrogate.

Now, thanks to EXH170, 90% of the LGTB couples can have children without any intervention of any kind. Well, that's if you don’t take the doctor’s appointment into account to get their prescription for the ‘reverse-birth control’ as the drug is called on the street. Not only does an impressive baby boom takes place all over the world as many couples grabbed this opportunity with both hands and fulfilled a deep hidden dream. Economy also flourishes because of this big gap in the market. Baby showers are being reinvented. Paternity clothing lines are being designed. Prenatal classes and maternity wards for dads only are popping up like mushrooms all over the world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for giving this fic a chance! 
> 
> Next update, next Sunday :)

Adam’s not quite sure how he got himself from stalking and hunting down his lover around the underground parking lot to manhandling him all the way from the car to the elevator, all the way to their bedroom, to having his now naked body's spread out on their bed like a sacrificial lamb, ready to be offered to whatever wicked higher being his lover might decide to worship next. His hair’s a sweaty mess. His face and chest flushed in various shades of red and pink. His aching body covered by a soft sheen of sweat. He's whimpering, pleading, downright begging for his lover's touch. The words "please", "baby", "more", "harder" tumbling from his lips over and over as he pulls against the silk ties Tommy used to tie him up.

As it is, Tommy's stopped touching his lover and is currently sitting on Adam's thighs, using all of his willpower not to give in to the pleas while he waits for Adam’s breaking point. No matter how much he wants to reach out and touch his man, there’s nothing, abso-fucking-lutely nothing, that compares to taking in the breathtaking view of this beautifully debauched man he can call his own.

He still doesn’t know what he loves most; him dominating Adam like this or knowing that Adam gives himself up so easily, all of him, even as far back as the very early days of their relation. Not once did it feel wrong and the best thing about, it goes both ways. Whatever one of them needs or wants, the other one gives, without thinking, without wanting or expecting something or anything in return.

They’ve done this so many times by now, Tommy can almost predict, down to the millisecond, when and especially how Adam will fall apart. Adam’s never been a silent nor a passive lover for that matter and Tommy _knows_ every sound, every expression on his lover’s face, every shade that colors his skin and most importantly; he has an actual masters degree when it comes to reading Adam’s hips. Truth be told, he loves, really fucking loves, how Adam’s hips have a mind of their own. Honest to God; Adam’s hips movements, according to Tommy, should be translated to an actual verb. Period. End of story.

He loves how they’re always moving under or on top of him, agonizingly slow or mercilessly hard or any other rhythm in between for that matter. He loves how they can drive him insane with want, how Adam’s playful, teasing thrusts never _ever_ fail to make him rock hard. Inappropriate boners and him have a long history because of those damn hips. He loves how they can turn him into a begging slut who wants nothing more than being fucked right through the goddamn mattress. Hell, at times, he wouldn’t mind getting fucked so hard he’d not only pas through the mattress but straight through the fucking floor, and fall, with his man still inside him, straight into the bed of the downstairs neighbors. Now _that_ , that would give a whole new meaning to the expression ‘blissfully fucked to within an inch of his life’.

It’ll have to wait though. Tonight’s not about Tommy, it’s about Adam. Right now, Adam’s pleasure comes first; his can wait a little longer. Plus, who is he kidding here; he’s enjoying this way too much.

Adam’s getting closer and closer to his breaking point, feet now firmly planted on the bed, a constant motion on the sheets, bucking up relentlessly, fiercely, aggressively – against better judgment - in search of friction. _Any_ kind of friction will do at this point. Like many time before, Tommy can’t help smiling at the sight of a rutting Adam. He might not have a thing for horseback riding or horses all together for that matter, in the privacy of their bedroom however, he’s very much open for equine-ish bareback riding.  Adam, like this, bucking up uncontrollably with so much power and dominance reminds him of a wild stallion. An all-black stallion that’s fighting the lasso around its neck, refusing to be broken whereas in fact it’s only a matter of minutes before it breaks.  

It never ceases to amaze Tommy how Adam manages to keep bucking up so hard, for so long, under his weight. It wouldn’t be the first time either Adam actually managed to throw him off. One day, even if it’ll be the death of him, and he’ll be damned if he ever stops trying, he would love nothing more than to ride Adam like this. He tried; on way more than once occasion, to impale himself on Adam’s cock, to no avail. When Adam’s like this, he’s past and gone beyond the point of holding still, even for a few seconds while Tommy sinks down on him. He's not ashamed to say it out loud; knowing he can make his man lose his goddamn sanity while fooling around in the bedroom is freaking fucking amazing!

Adam’s breathing’s becoming harder, quicker as Tommy’s watching him licking his lips, how his tongue drags over his lower teeth, how he bites his lower lip and he smirks. He knows the pleas are about to come in five… four… three… two… one. “Fuck! Tommy! Jesus fucking Christ! You goddamn son of a bitch!” Adam cries out, bucking up so hard Tommy has to hold on for the ride. “Baby, please. Fuck! Touch me already… Please, please touch me. I want… I need…. Please, just please…”

How can he resist a plea this beautiful? A plea made out of pure, raw emotion, formed by lust, hunger and desire. Guided by love and blind trust. “That’s right, baby,” Tommy almost purrs. “Be loud for me. Come on, baby, let me hear you. Gonna make you scream my name.” When his hands come to rest on Adam’s stomach, Adam’s breathing stops. Slowly but determinately Tommy’s fingers are making their way up to Adam’s chest, nails digging in as he goes. The broken sounds that are escaping his lips are music to Tommy’s ears. Those half swallowed sounds only intensify in volume when Tommy starts nibbling and biting at Adam’s nipples and Adam’s body jolts off of the bed, aching for more.

Nipple play, under his lover’s touch, has been uplifted to an art form. Adam knows it’s one of Tommy’s things. No matter what they do, whether it’s a morning quickie or a slow night of lovemaking he always, _always,_ gives them a moment of his undivided attention. If Tommy would have his way, he’d do it hours on end and being the little shit that he is, he has done just that countless times before. Lost in a sea of sensations, Adam’s skin is on fire. It’s not enough and too much all at once. He’s about to beg Tommy to do something, to take and fuck him when …

“Oh shit!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAW!! Thank you all SO much for the love boys and girls! I’m very humbled and excited, not to mention grateful, you all go on this journey with
> 
> Next update will come next Sunday :)

One of the perks of having a fowl mouthed badass punk as a lover, one who not only loves his “shits” and “fucks” in his every day conversation but especially in the heat of the moment, is that you don't blink twice anymore when you hear him swear.

Whereas most people would be alarmed or shocked by it, or at the very least, mumble a “what” or a “huh” to their lover Adam doesn’t, instead he moans, _loudly_ , in response. The one thing he is registering though, very much so, is the sudden total absence of touches. "Stop teasing me, baby. Please, babe... No more,” Adam pleads.  
  
It’s the tone in Tommy’s voice, all genuine concern, and high pitched that alarms Adam more than anything. "Adam, we need to stop for a minute. I think you're bleeding or something." Forget the bucket of ice, forget the cold water shower for a minute, this works just as fine, if not better to get his brain to focus and kill the mood… _Instantly!._ "Huh? What?!” On instinct, Adam looks down his body even though he can't make out anything; as it is, he can barely make out Tommy’s form in their darkened room. Partly because they didn’t bother to switch on the light when they got to their bedroom, the sun had barely started going under, there was no need to interrupt their whole reversing-the-caveman-stalking-prey-situation. Getting naked was the ultimate goal and partly because Tommy’s body is effectively blocking out the light coming in from the patio.

Adam barely has time to process Tommy jumping off of the bed when every damn light in their bedroom gets turned on, momentarily blinding him. “Tommy? Baby, you're freaking me out. Talk to me.”

“Shut it and let me see.” Looking down his body again he understands what’s causing Tommy to freak out: a yellowish oily looking substance is leaking in a steady flow from his nipple. “What the fuck is that?” 

“I have no fucking clue,” Tommy says, cautiously poking all over Adam’s chest and nipple which results in more fluid surfacing. “Fuck, babe! Why didn’t you say I was taking it too far? Does it hurt?” 

Adam can feel the guilt coming off of him in waves. “Cause I was too damn busy moaning my fucking head off??” It’s that simple really and it eases the guilt written all over Tommy’s face. “You didn’t hurt me, Tommy. You know I would have said otherwise, plus, this isn’t blood.” 

“Don’t care. I don’t like this,” Tommy states, untying the silk ties around Adam’s wrists. “You’re calling your doc first thing tomorrow morning. Need some help cleaning up, babe?” It’s a rhetorical question. No matter what Adam’s answer’s going to be, he is going to the bathroom with him. They’re together. It’s what he does. It’s how they work. It’s just the way it is. 

Just after lunch the following day, Tommy’s accompanying Adam to a private practice where they have an appointment with Adam's physician, Dr. Sloan who had no problem offering up his lunchtime.

Both are, understandably, nervous. The search they ended up doing online didn’t help, at all. The internet is a marvelous thing. You have a question? Google's bound to give you the answer or, at the very least some form of answer. Google is also a bitch; a big fat motherfucking bitch according to Tommy. You click a few links, next thing you know, the weirdest shit pops up on your screen. It went from infections to - in rare cases - breast cancer to a whole section of horror stories with a shit load of pictures that went with them. Even Tommy got grossed out by some, and that, that's saying something. Sure enough, a ton of pages were dedicated to male nursing which they immediately ruled out. That was the one possibility they knew is wasn't; babies weren’t anywhere close to get put on the boys’ what-do-we-want-to-achieve-next-year’s checklist.

When they’re allowed in the exam room Adam’s is being bombarded with questions prior to the physical exam. "Are you in any pain? Have you noticed any other unusual symptoms? Do you feel feverish? Are you taking any kinds of meds? Are they more sensitive than before? Just so we're clear, yesterday was the first day your nipples leaked?” The list seams endless. “This is important; did you notice a change of color in your nipples or areola?” 

Adam doesn’t know what to say. For a man who stares at his naked chest everyday while he shaves or brushes his teeth he’s got no idea. He reaches out for Tommy's hand resting on the desk and squeezes it thankfully when Tommy steps up to answer the question. "I can tell you without any doubt what so ever Adam's nipples haven't changed in any way, yesterday's incident not withheld.” He’s certain of it; he and Adam’s chest have a special kind of relationship. “I would have noticed it, baby," he reassures Adam again as he looks over to him, “I would.” 

The list of questions goes on and on, eventually trespassing all over the privacy of their sex life. “Do not feel embarrassed by my next questions, it is not my place to judge in any way,” Doctor Sloan says in the most neutral tone possible, “it is however important I know about it, injuries are not uncommon.” Needles, nipple clamps, piercings, wax play and a bunch of other things are being addressed. To his credit, Doctor Sloan doesn’t react when both men giggle a few times. 

Eventually, Adam's been asked to take off his shirt and lay on the bed. “For the record, doc,” Tommy says adamant while Adam unbuttons his shirt,” I’m not waiting out there while you examine him. My place is here, with Adam.” The protective tone in his voice’s leaving out any room for debate. He’s a protective bastard when it comes to people he loves. 

Dr. Sloan smiles at them both. “Not everyone who comes in with a patient is comfortable with seeing their loved ones examined, or vice versa,” he explains to Tommy. “Hence the small waiting room we have right outside. If he doesn’t mind having you here, who am I to say you have to leave? In this case though, as I need to examine his chest area, I am confining you to the top left side of the bed.” Only because Tommy’s no jerk and the explanation makes sense he refrains himself from making some smartass remark about being confined. Instead he nods in agreement, moving to the indicated spot and is by Adam’s side long before his back’s hitting the bed, taking Adam's left hand between his own. It’s a small gesture meaning the world to both of them. It’s all about reassurance, love and support. 

Dr. Sloan meticulously exams Adam's chest and breast area, explaining everything he does or is currently looking for as he goes. “There is some swelling in both breasts, a little more pronounced on the right side. I’ll draw some blood and make the arrangements for a chest x-ray and an ultrasound. With that done, I should be able to tell you exactly what we’re looking at.” 

An hour later Adam’s test results are in, Tommy’s fingernails and polish are beyond salvation and Adam’s gone to the bathroom again. No sooner than his butt touching his seat Doctor Sloan addresses them both. “I have your test results right here. Before we discuss them, I want to go over one detail with you, both of you actually,” Doctor Sloan starts right of the bat. “You stated you haven’t been taking any medication in the last six months,” to which Adam nods affirmatively. “May I ask, if this also applies to your partner?” Tommy’s taken aback by the question wondering how the fuck his medical history has got anything to do with Adam’s condition. “I’m not on anything except for sleeping aids when my insomnia is being a bitch again,” Tommy fills in. “Have been taking the same prescription for years, too,” he elaborates. “Why is it important what pills I take anyway?” 

“I’ll get to that in an instant, gentlemen. I do want you both to think about any kind of pill like substance you’ve ingested in the last six months.” 

“Any pill like substance,” Adam thinks out loud, “well, that’s easy to answer. Vitamins. Me and Tommy, as well as everyone else on my band have been doing it for the last few years. Being on tour means we don’t always get regular meals and so all of us take extra supplements. We start three weeks before going away and end taking them two weeks after being home. We did a two month acoustic tour in Australia in December and January, you do the math.” 

“Where did you keep them on tour?”

“On the tour bus,” Tommy fills in, “we got this multi colored altered spice racks hanging on the bus wall. Since management keeps our prescriptions and stuff, they also fill our jars with whatever we need to take.” 

“What color do they have?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Tommy wants to know. 

“Humor me.” 

“We all have our own color plus our name’s written on the caps.” 

“Not the jars, the vitamins,” Doctor Sloan clarifies. 

“Orange,” Adam blurts out, confusing written on his face. “Light orange.” 

Doctor Sloan opens a drawer, pulling out what seems to be a sample, offering the tablet to Adam. ”These vitamins?” 

“Yea,” Adam confirms,”those vitamins.” 

“No,” Doctor Sloan says. “I’m sorry to say, these aren’t your vitamins. This is a sample of EXH170.” 

Tommy shakes his head in disbelieve as the pieces of the puzzle falls into place. “You’re telling me that somehow, somewhere, someone mixed up them pills and Adam’s been taking the pill instead of vitamins?” 

“As unlikely as it sound, I would have to say yes.” Doctor Sloan turns the paper he’s been holding over to Adam and Tommy, pointing out something mid page. “I had the lab double check it, the results are positive. You’re pregnant, Mister Lambert. We’ll have to do an ultrasound to –“ 

A gazillion ton of bricks come crushing down on Adam. Pregnant  is the only word that’s sinking in. After that, everything else becomes a blurry scene out of some shitty comic horror show or some very, very, very bad trip. He's there, yet he isn't. He’s sleeping, yet he’s fully awake. He's stone cold sober, yet he’s feeling completely baked. It’s the biggest fucked up out-of-body experience. Ever! 

He's vaguely aware of stripping out of his clothes. He feels a hand taking his. He’s distantly feeling a cold substance being applied on his abdomen. He's more or less registering Tommy talking to the doctor, repeating “holy shit” over and over like a mantra before mumbling something about "aliens versus predator". 

On autopilot, he’s putting his clothes back on, sitting on a chair next to Tommy, his gaze going back and forth between both men. Their mouths move, indicating they’re having a conversation going on. Tommy’s hands are all over the place, a tic he only does when he’s overly excited. As for Adam, Adam’s lost in a web of a million of thoughts, fears and repercussions. His career, his life, his body, his management, the tour will have to be cancelled, his fans, the haters. You name a subject, he’s thinking about it in some way or another. 

“- according to my calculations due date is October 29th. Now, I know this comes as a shock - ” This has Adam snapping back to reality with a gasp.

"A shock?” Adam laughs out. “Shocked isn’t a word I’d use to describe this, this,” he’s waving his hands in exasperation, “this massive clusterfuck.” 

“I understand –“

“You understand? No! You don't fucking understand!" Adam all but screams, effectively interrupting Doctor Sloan in the process, almost knocking over his chair as he gets up. "I'm in the middle of final preparations for an eleven month world tour! We're leaving in fifteen fucking days! So, no! I can't be pregnant!" He’s mad, furious in fact. He’s pissed at Mother Nature, at Faith, at the entire Universe for screwing him over like this. He’s ready to punch someone in the face just because he really, really feels like beating the living crap out of someone. He doesn’t though. Instead, he unleashes his frustration out on the wall closest to him, hard enough to have kicked an actual hole in it. "I can't be fucking pregnant!  It'll ruin everything I worked so hard to get," Adam yells. “I want it gone. Do you hear me? I want this,” he’s pointing to his lower stomach in disgust,” _thing_ gone!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you all SO much for the love!
> 
> Being away for the weekend, it's only fair I update a little sooner, plus it's my Halloween gift to you guys :)  
> A special kind of treat...
> 
> Next update, should be around Sunday November 10th. Maybe I'll update sooner, can't promise it though.

Seeing his partner this upset, this hurt not to mention this betrayed by his own body and faith hurts Tommy beyond words. Hearing the rage, the hatred in his words, it stings. It stings in places no man, nor woman for that matter, should ever be stung. All of the above combined? It makes every damn cell in his body hurt as much as his heart and the only thing he can do is try to hold on. Try to keep his head out of the water. “Adam…” Tommy tries, holding out his hand as he gets up, taking a step towards his lover. “No, let me go. I can’t deal with deal this shit right now. I just can’t,” Adam barks out, effectively putting more distance between them. “Gimme your car keys." Tommy doesn't move, he's just standing there, all statuesque-like. "Tommy!! Gimme your fucking car keys! I gotta get the fuck out of here!”

Without thinking he throws his keys to Adam who catches them mid-air already making his way to the door.

Of course Tommy's worried and scared for his man, he's also in no state to act upon it. He's barely keeping it together as it is. He wants but can't bring himself to start and try to comprehend what's going through Adam's mind. His own mind would implode within seconds. When he's pushed beyond his limits, trapped into a corner, sweet caring Adam turns into an obnoxious despicable sulking bastard. Tommy knows those moods, all too well; they're a part of him, too. "Adam... Come home to me." The words are out his mouth before he can stop himself.

The sound of the door being slammed shut is the last thing Tommy hears for God knows how long. His brain is a cacophony of dark doom’s day clouds and thoughts. When he starts to come around, he’s sitting down, head down between his knees and breathing out into a bag.

“What happened?” He asks between breathes. He really has got no idea.

“You started hyperventilating. Keep taking deep breaths.” Tommy’s doesn’t even try to answer; a shrug will have to do. Plus, it’s embarrassing. Some grown ass man he turns out to be. A little stress and his mind goes into overdrive. Overdrive or not, what he needs right now, more than anything elkse, are answers. Straight up, no bullshit kind of answers and he's got a shit load of them. Willing his brain to keep it together, Tommy takes a few more deep breaths.

“Between you and me, doc,” Tommy begins, putting down the bag, his strained emotions out in the open for the world to see, ”I don’t give a rats’ ass about patient confidentiality right now. I have to think about my future, _with_ Adam in it and in order to have that I need to understand how the fuck this happened. So I’m asking you, from man to man, to help me out and talk to me.” Tommy’s broken “please” fading out under his breath.

Getting out of his chair, Doctor Sloan walks around his desk and sits down in the chair next to Tommy. “Ask your questions. I will answer them to best of my abilities. Keep in mind it’s not my area of expertise though. I cannot guarantee you I’ll have a complete answer.” It'll do. It has to. “Thank you,” Tommy whispers out, bowing his head in respect. “I’m gonna think out loud here, doc. Got a pen and paper I can borrow for a sec?” Shuffling his chair closer to the doctor’s desk, Tommy pulls out his phone and opens up his calendar counting down the weeks. “Alright, like Adam said, we all start taking the vitamins three weeks before we leave on a tour. I went to the pharmacy myself for ours and emptied the rest in the jars on the bus. I’m positive the switch didn’t happen there. It’s an ninety pill vile and we take two pills a day, at seven days a week it means Adam was on ‘our’ vitamins till mid-December. Assuming for the sake of argument that someone somehow mixed up both meds it implies that Adam only took them for like roughly two months –“

“Two pills a day?! ” Doctor Sloan interrupts Tommy suddenly. "That’s got to be it, it has to be!" Reaching over for a stack of papers on his desk, he searches and pulls out what to Tommy looks like a blood work form. Scanning the pages, he circles a few things here and there. “That’s it! I’m willing to bet my life on it.”

Realizing Tommy doesn't have a clue on what he’s talking about, he turns to Tommy. “Son, your partner’s pregnancy is a combination of factors. Let me try and explain this as simple as I can. Let me start by comparing a same sex fertilization to a straight couple fertilization. The very essence is the same; an egg must be fertilized by a sperm. Then, there’s also a fact when it comes to straight couples; it’s not unheard of for women to become pregnant within a month after stopping birth control. This happens because some women are extremely fertile but also because their spouses’ semen contains many active cells. Both partners need to be equality fertile for it to work on the first try.” Tommy nods understandingly. So far it all makes sense and he says as much.

“Furthermore, as you may or may not know, EXH17’s main components are hormones. One of these hormones is Oestradiol. While this is considered to be a female hormone it is also naturally present in men, in an of course much lower concentration. As you can see here,” showing the circled pages to Tommy, Doctor Sloan points out two specific numbers on both pages, ”I had Adam's previous blood work result pulled up when the lab called in the preliminary result. Adam seems to have a natural higher level than the average man. In any other situation, this slightly risen level would have zero impact on his life. In this particular case however, I’m confident that his natural elevated level, combined with the twice a day hormone intake accelerated the mutation leading up to a much faster and visibly very fertile first ovulation. Add a partner with good semen to that and you end up with a baby.”

“Ten points for my swimmers, I guess,” Tommy jokes. It’s a façade, an easy way out, he knows it and Doctor Sloan’s no fool, he can see it all over his face. “I’d say definitely gold winning swimmers, son.” 

"What…” He can barely say it out loud. “What are our options? I mean Adam's? Where do we go from here?”

No sooner then the word is out in the open, Tommy rules out adoption. He knows there’s no way Adam will go through with the pregnancy only to give it up. Never going to happen. Abortion is another possibility. Of the exceptions out there allowing parents to have an abortion performed up until twenty-two weeks of pregnancy Adam’s case fits in the ‘not recognize that they are pregnant until the pregnancy is well advanced’ category. Option number three and also the last remaining one is keeping the baby and become parents. Whatever the end decision will be Tommy wants to know what it involves, how to proceed, how it will affect Adam. How it will affect him is left in the middle. He’s asking question after question after question. The answers have Tommy sigh deeply. “Black or white. Life or death. Some choice, doc.”  
  
"No one says a decision needs to be made this very moment.” It’s not really a lie, it’s not exactly the truth either. With the tour just around the corner the sooner a decision is made, the better. The downfall from postponing it would be huge. “Why don't you go home, let it sink in and discuss this together in the privacy of your home. Whatever you decide, call Helen for an appointment, I'll leave instructions she fits you in regardless."

"Thanks, doc. I appreciate it." 

Not even ten whole seconds after Tommy's cab arrives he's crying with laughter. The driver's fake teeth are about to fall out of his mouth when he's asking where to go. To Tommy it's fucking hilarious, to the cab driver? Not so much and it suites Tommy just fine, he's got no problem whatsoever with the whole silent treatment that follows. Quite the opposite, it gives him some time to channel his thoughts and emotions, it’s not nearly enough, yet for now, it’ll have to do. Halfway into the ride, Tommy asks the driver to drop him off at another address.  
Desperate times call for desperate measures is a saying Tommy takes to heart when he rings the door. Instead of the usual greeting, his mom’s greeted with, “Adam’s pregnant.”  


Moms are awesome. Well most mothers are and Tommy’s mom is no exception. “What can I do, sweetheart?” She knows her son. She knows not to push and ask what he needs or wants first. Tommy needs time and space when faced with a major crisis.

“Bake me macaroons?”

For reasons she never understood, most of their deepest open-heart conversations - and they had their fair share over the years - took place while she was making macaroons. He’d sit on the counter, steal some dough whenever she wasn't looking and poured his heart out about anything and everything. They had laughed, they had cried, they had connected all over a bowl of dough.  
By the time Tommy’s finished talking, the fourth load is not only ready to come out of the oven, she pretty much heard every cuss known to mankind – twice - and Tommy’s exhausted. Everything came out, the shock, the pain, the hurt over being pushed away by Adam, the fear of losing Adam over this, the fear of not being ready, the fear of what this could mean to his career but most of all the amount of love he felt instantly for that tiny alien-looking creature on that small black and white screen.

  
“Sweetheart, ultimately the decision isn’t yours alone to make and no one says it needs to be made tonight. Be with him, be together. Dare to be vulnerable even when he needs you to be strong. Tell him how you feel about it, open and honestly.” With that in mind, the last thing Tommy does when he’s back home is taping a note on the door, just above the lock, when he’s getting ready to go to bed.

  
_‘Come to bed with me. I’ll keep your spot warm.’_   



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you all for your love and support!

The first thing, actually the one thing, on Adam’s mind is getting the fuck out of there. Breathing comes second. And as always, life truly can be a bitch. When you’re having one of those days, everything that can go wrong actually does. Everything that can be thrown at you gets thrown at you, with brutal force. 

The contrast couldn't have been more painfully, not to mention awkwardly obvious when a couple joins Adam in the elevator on the fifth floor. They're completely unaware of Adam's presence in the elevator, totally entranced by the black and white frames in their hands: ultrasounds. It’s the beginning versus the end, light and darkness, sickening genuine happiness colliding with raw gut wrenching devastation. It isn't the muttered endearments that push Adam over the edge. Nor the gentle touches they share. He doesn't care about the shining stars in their eyes. The thing that has Adam abusing the elevator buttons with blunt force is the way the man bends over and kisses the baby belly of his partner, mumbling sweet nothings to the child she's carrying. “That’s all I fucking need.” Talk about getting kicked when you’re already down. 

Tears being shed in a private practice can only mean two things; you either received wonderful or terrible news. A blind man would be able to see which kind Adam got. Adam can see it in their eyes when their gaze meet and he can feel it in the air. Their confusion. Their compassion. Their pity. The exact moment their happiness selfishly is put first over his distress and they zone him out. They're strangers. They don't know him or the reason why he's devastated. Why should they care? Why should they fucking care about the mess he’s in? The thought forces out a wry smile. Why can’t all those nosy gossip selling vultures outside just be like them? 

“The fuck you looking at?” He will not break down in front of strangers. He simply won’t. 

With screeching tires he makes his way onto the road. So what if Tommy’s gear box gets mistreated in the process? He doesn’t care. It’s a car. 

A roadblock and shitty road signs later Adam comes to stop in front of a church of all things. _That’s it!_ He screams out to the world, to what or whoever’s up there deciding that this is ‘National Fuck Adam Over Day.’ How much more does he have to fucking take!?! 

It’s an old looking building, one in need of a fresh coat of paint. Looking around, there’s not a living soul out there. No traffic, there’s nothing but him and this building. It goes against his nature, he's a people person, however right now, he wants to be alone and what better place to hide from the world than an empty church. The building is as deserted as the streets around it and Adam lets out a grateful sigh. Picking out a random seat, resting his face in his hands the tears that have been threatening to spill ever since he heard the word _pregnant_ come. 

Some hundred and shit tears later a white handkerchief appears in Adam’s line of sight. Looking up he sees this elderly gentleman standing right in front of him. The stereotypical picture of a granddad complete with a cane and a hat and one very ugly brown suit. It’s the man’s eyes that speak to Adam. Red and wet, marked by the same sadness in them, the same devastation, a pain too unbearable for one man to bear, that for a second, make Adam forget all about time and his own problems. Taking the white cotton Adam asks if everything is alright. 

The old man sits down, placing a hand on Adam’s knee. He doesn’t say anything; he just sits there, shedding bitter tears of his own. Staring in front of him, looking at something and to Adam it is actually comforting. The silence, the shared grief, somehow it makes it bearable. 

After a while the older man starts talking. It’s a dam that breaks, as the man is telling Adam how just seven hours ago his wife died; his loving partner for over sixty years. He listens, he cannot nor does he want to interrupt this elder gentleman when he tells Adam stories of their past. He tells stories of their old neighbourhood, - this used to be their church - their children and their grandchildren and their great-grandchildren and the road trips him and his wife took together. 

Just like that Adam starts to talk about his own past, about his dreams, his love for music, his career, about Tommy, about the journey – the tour - they’re about to embark on and the _wonderful_ news he just got. Adam spills it all, tells everything there is to this total stranger, who goes by the name of Jack and who has got absolutely no idea who Adam is or what he means to the world.   

He shares how he feels like he’s standing at this cross road where the only way you can go is forward. There is no turning left. There is no turning right. There’s no going back. The only way there is, is go forward and the only thing that is in front of you is this huge fucking wall. One you simply cannot cross. It’s too high, too big. It is so scary. It chokes you up so bad because you know; you just know that you’ll have to do it yourself. There is no one else who can do it for you. You have to take that step, you have to actually move and do it yourself. You want to but you also want to run away and hide. 

Listening to Jack talking, reminiscing about his past something clicks inside him. 

You just don't want to do anything, but you cannot, you have to act and at the same time you're realizing this, at the same time, there is this primal instinct within you finding its way to get out and you want to fight. You want to explode and obliterate this damn wall.  Before you even know what it is you’re doing, you’re moving. You’re taking that step forward, towards to wall, knocking it down. 

“…You have to believe in yourself and your partner. You have to believe in that little human growing inside them.”  Unconsciously, Adam touches his stomach. In a ridiculous short period of time of no more than two minutes, he goes from hearing and processing the news to denial and disbelief to rage to feeling to accepting it. Just like that, it happens in a blink of an eye. 

The minute, the second, you realize that you've done it. That you moved; that you took that step, the feeling that you get is beyond anything that you can possibly imagine. There is no word for it. You’re high! You're so fucking high and it’s not on drugs. You’re high on life, you’re high on living, on feeling and being and that is just so intense. It is so beautiful, so powerful, so damn real, no one could possibly understand unless they’ve been there themselves. 

Jack and Adam bond in ways few strangers ever will. When they part ways, both men have dried their tears. Both men found comfort and strength in the words of the other. They hug each other for a long time, both knowing they'll never meet again after this. Adam knows, though he won this battle, it doesn’t mean he won the war; far from it. Facing Tommy is another battle field he must face. 

_“Come to bed with me. I’ll keep your spot warm.”_  

 

Facing Tommy after walking out, well running out on him would be a more accurate way to put it is also terrifying, if not more. Finding Tommy’s note does the exact opposite of what it was meant to do; instead of calming Adam’s nerves each and every one of them is very much alive. The way up to their bedrooms seems way, way longer. With every step he takes Adam feels like a lamb at the local slaughterhouse, ready to be put down. He’s halfway up when he has to stop; his legs just won’t cooperate anymore. His muscles aren’t screaming bloody murder; they’ve been reduced to ashes at this point. His heart is beating so hard, so fast it could easily break through his chest bone.

Why are some conversations so damn hard to have? No matter how long you know someone, regardless of how close you are, some conversations you just do not want to have. Ever! Like, how do you tell someone they have cancer? How do you tell your partner you want a divorce? How do you tell a loved one their house burned down? How do you tell a spouse? How will they cope? How do you deal with it when life’s fucking you over? Why isn’t there a fucking manual when you need one?! 

What option do you take when the only ones you’ve got is getting stabbed to death, die by fire or die in car crash. You’re fucked no matter what you chose. Going back down is another option, a fucked up one at that, resulting in not only delaying this whatever you want to call it but also in increasing Adam’s obvious distress and blood pressure exponentially. He won’t make it through the night, it’ll eat him up alive. 

Taking a twisted leap of faith Adam opens the door, letting out a deep breath when the only thing that greats him is darkness. He can vaguely make out Tommy’s curled up form on his side of the bed. He knows Tommy isn’t sleeping. He’s brooding, probably drowning in the sea of darkness that floods Tommy’s brain every now and then. At least, for now, he doesn’t have to face whatever is written in his man’s eyes. 

When Adam finally gets under the covers, making himself small on his side of the bed, the air’s getting more and more filled with their mutual struggle, sucking out all the oxygen making it nearly impossible to keep on breathing. The sound of the other one’s deep breathes is the only thing breaking the deafening silence. They’re so close and yet so far away from each other and it’s killing Adam, it’s killing them both.   

Kill or be killed. Die by fire or get stabbed to death. 

“I’m sorry.” A whisper. An opening. A first step towards the second. 

Tommy takes the second one. “Adam.”  Both men turn simultaneously, finding each other blindly, pulling the other one impossibly closer. Feeling the other one’s heartbeat against their chest calms their own. Feeling the other one’s tears sooths scouring wounds. Finding the other one’s lips reconnects them in ways neither can express in words. “I’m sorry,” Adam eventually gets out again, clinging to Tommy for dear life, giving back as much as he’s getting. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,”

Seconds tick away, becoming minutes as time goes by. “Baby,” Tommy starts only to be interrupted by another round of apologies. “Shut up and let me say this. Okay? Whatever you decide to do, baby, I’m here for you. You know that right?” Not trusting his voice or his emotions, Adam goes for the easy way out and hums in agreement “Don’t just hum damn it. Say it. Say you know,” Tommy insists, manhandling Adam till he’s being the little spoon, till there’s no room left between his chest and Adam’s back. 

“I know.” He knows, he should have known, he always knew. 

Having this conversation to Adam’s shoulders, in the dark, might be considered a coward act or strange. Now is not the time to care about it. What matters to Tommy is getting the message across. “I know this is unexpected to say the least and before you say anything, I am totally freaking out here. Don’t let the chill out attitude fool ya.” Tommy’s hands wander off, coming to rest protectively on Adam’s belly, pressing kisses between his shoulder blades. ” I –,” Tommy begins. 

Thank fuck, he’s doing this in the dark. “I need to get this off my fucking chest… I wanna do this, baby. I want this, Adam, you, me and the little munchkin here. I want it so goddamn much.” Tommy’s voice breaks. “I don’t wanna be that dude that’s just there for you, you know?  If we’re gonna do this, I wanna be a fucking part of your pregnancy and share whatever weird cravings you’ll get and be that sappy, crazy happy dude that goes grocery shopping for mint ice-cream with pickles or whatever at 4 AM in the fucking morning.” It’s true, he wants to be that guy. “ I wanna be that dude that shoves his phone under everyone’s nose and flails over the ultrasound pic that’s on his screensaver. I wanna be the guy that brings you a pillow and a blanket when you wanna sleep on the goddamn  toilet cause you’ve gotta piss like every five fucking minutes and keep you company all through the night with a bag of kale ships and whipped cream next to me.” The words are cutting Adam open, breaking him on every level. “Everything from holding your hand at every ultrasound to tying your fucking shoelaces, I wanna be that guy, baby. I want it all,” Tommy admits.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously? You guys RULE!

Adam doesn't break under Tommy’s words. His very essence implodes, shattering into a million little pieces with so much force he’s trembling like a leaf in Tommy’s arms. The knot the size of a rugby ball nestled between his insides is the second thing he feels. Next come the sweaty palms followed closely by the tears and last, but certainly not least, there’s Tommy. Tommy, who’s holding him as tight and as close as he possibly can to his chest. Tommy, who’s kissing every bit of skin he can reach without letting go. “I don’t know…,” Adam confesses. He doesn’t, he’s a ship lost at sea in the middle of the goddamn Bermuda Triangle.  “I don’t know… I just don’t know, you know?” It’s not much to go on. It’s nothing basically yet it’s the best he can do for now. Having no idea on how exactly it is you’re feeling, let alone try and explain it to someone else is not mind-blowingly awkward, well that too, it’s disquieting to say the least. 

“I know, baby.” He doesn’t either. Tommy’s got no idea what Adam’s talking about. He’s got a pretty good idea and even then, it’s just a guess. It _is_ however the right thing to say.  

Adam shifts and presses his full length against and around Tommy, his head buried in the crook of Tommy’s neck. Partly because he wants to hide from the world, mostly because, right now, Tommy’s his safety net. Effortlessly their lips connect, over and over again. Arms and legs entangle themselves more and more with each kiss they share. Eventually, their lips are locked together. Both men are bonded by endless long kisses. There’s no lust or passion in them, they’re needy, clingy kisses. Kisses filled with a need to connect, to share. Kisses filled with a need to forgive and be forgiven. This level of intimacy, this level of – naked - closeness and surrendering yourself emotionally can be just as arousing, on a total different level for sure, albeit it with the same physical outcome; both are well on their way to full hardness.  "Make love with me," Tommy says. He wants to know, he needs to know they’re ok. He needs to know, that despite the huge elephant in the room, they’re ok.  

“Tell me what you want, baby. I’ll do anything.” Adam’s offering everything he is, everything he has. He wants, needs to give something back to Tommy. Whatever it takes, he’ll do it. 

Both men have hearts of gold. Both men give back as much as they receive, if not more, both to their family and friends as well as their fans. Whereas Adam's a talker and wears his heart on his sleeve, Tommy's more protective of his. Adam’s the extravert, Tommy’s the introvert. Adam’s damn good with words, Tommy’s good with them too when he can write them down, saying them out loud proves to be a little more difficult every single time.  

This very moment is no different. How do you tell your partner the thought of losing him, even a small part of him, scares the shit out of you? How do you tell him you’ll move every goddamn mountain on this godforsaken planet, all by yourself, because you love him just that much? How do you tell him your heart’s breaking even at the sight of his tears? The thoughts, the feelings are right there; in Tommy’s mind, in Tommy’s eyes, in Tommy’s heart. He can’t get them out though. They’ll come out wrong, all jumbled together. They’ll make even less sense to Adam than to himself.  

Instead of saying the words out loud, Tommy’s speaks with his body, claiming Adam’s mouth, pouring everything he wants to say into the kiss. It’s demanding, it’s dominant, it’s loving, it’s sweet. It’s everything all poured into one. It’s everything Adam understands.  When he, without thinking, starts shifting back to being the little spoon Tommy holds him back. "No, I want it the other way round. I want you _inside_ me." 

Words are being whispered between kisses, between slow, deep thrusts; words of confusion, words of fear, words of love, words of understanding, words of togetherness. They give. They take. They are.  

Basking in the afterglow, stripped down to their most vulnerable state, with Adam resting his head on Tommy’s chest, they talk. Adam starts by telling about the couple in the elevator and Tommy gets it. If he had been Adam, he would have trashed the elevator. He would have, he _is_ a feisty little shit when pushed too far. Hearing about him meeting Jack at church, Tommy can’t help but laugh when Adam’s eleven sentences into his story. “Only you, babe! Only you would give me a detailed description of some ugly as fuck old grand pops suit in this situation.” 

“Hey! No making fun of me,” Adam pouts. 

“I’m not, boo,” Tommy smirks, “just pointing out the obvious here.” A bit of humour never hurt anyone, if anything it can ease the mood instantly. A kiss on top of Adam’s hair suffices to continue his story. By the time Adam’s finished, Tommy’s not only left with a lump down his throat, he also has made up his mind; whenever he’ll run into an old man wearing some ugly brown suit with a hat and a cane he’ll walk up to the man, ask if his name’s Jack and if so, if he’s the Jack Adam met. He has to shake that man’s hand and thank him as well as condole the man over the loss of his wife. Any man who puts another one’s grief before their own is a man anyone should look up to. 

For his part, Tommy starts talking about his conversation with doc Sloan. He shares the questions he asked, the answers he got, the macaroons his mom made him afterwards. “How did she take it?” Adam not only values and loves Tommy’s mom, it’s also a natural thing to ask. Disappointing your mother-in-law, no one wants to go there. Tommy answers truthfully, telling how she said she’d be there for them both, regardless the outcome. That they need to be together, about being vulnerable together and how ultimately, they both have a say in this. 

When Adam stays quiet, Tommy carries on. Just like he foresaw, Adam flinches at the word ‘adoption’. “We don’t have to make a decision today, baby.” Both men know though it’s not really a lie, it’s no way near the truth either. A decision needs to be made soon, the sooner the better. Adam’s asking questions to which he answers to the best of his abilities. He’s trying not to read too much into it; Adam’s questions are all abortion related. It’s like he’s made up his mind and his stomach drops with every new question Adam asks. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” He needs to know. 

“I can’t make head or tales of it all,” Adam admits. “My heart’s stuck in my head and my brain’s lodged itself in my chest. We always said that, somewhere in the future, we would have kids but,” Adam sighs. “We never really talked about it.” There’s no notion of blame behind his words. It is what it is.  The silence that takes over the room isn’t suffocating them this time. It’s not driving a wedge between them, it’s connecting them. They’re in this together. 

Tommy takes the opportunity to push Adam on his back and reverse the position they were in. Resting comfortably in Adam’s arms, embracing the silence around them, he’s letting his fingers wander over Adam’s chest, following a pattern of freckles only he can see. 

Of course, his fingers wander off. When Adam’s doesn’t back away from the contact, Tommy pushes his luck, going lower and lower till he’s reaching Adam’s abdomen. Tommy can’t for the life of him comprehend what he’s feeling right now. Could this be that infamous paternal instinct people talk about? Either way, there’s a little human growing under all this freckled skin. _His_ little human. _His_ baby. Remembering the black and white images on the monitor, Tommy can feel his heart swell in his chest, a warm feeling surging through his veins. The touch of fingers is being replaced by the firm touch of a hand; a hand that’s resting on Adam’s abdomen. A hand that’s protecting, a hand that’s offering support, a hand that’s saying _I love you._  

It may be a small gesture, it has a huge meaning and not only to Tommy. Although no word is spoken, Adam hears what Tommy’s telling him. _Loud_ and _clear_. 

“Either way,” Tommy points out suddenly, “we have to make a to-do list, reorganise shit.” He’s got a valid point; whatever they decide to do, stuff will have to be rescheduled. 

“They’re gonna go through the fucking roof.” That’s putting it mildly and there are a lot of ‘they’ to deal with. 

“You never know until you spill the beans.” Easier said than done when money’s involved, lots of money at that. 

They continue talking for hours on end and by the time it's near morning Adam is dead tired and so is Tommy. Adam’s words are becoming less and less well pronounced, almost slurred. They’ve been fighting sleep for the last fifteen minutes and it’s becoming clear they won’t be winning this fight. No surprise there, it’s been a long exhausting emotional day for them both. “Babe, go to sleep. We’ll continue this conversation in the morning.” Late afternoon sounds more realistic though. Thinking they’ll keep the position they’ve been in for the last hours, Tommy closes his eyes, ready to drift off. 

That’s not what happens. Adam moves from under Tommy, curling himself up, pulling his man with him. Willingly, Tommy follows Adam lead, smiling as Adam’s wiggling his ass until he finds that perfect position to be spooned in for the night. Keeping up the habit that comes with sleeping like this, Tommy’s hand comes to rest on Adam’s lower abdomen. To his surprise, Adam doesn’t rest his hand on top of his like he normally does. No, this time, he laces their fingers together. 

Tommy’s two seconds away from falling into the deep end when his brain’s registering Adam's sleep drunken mumbled words “… 's not just me,‘s not just you. Have to think about our baby…”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 acting up is one thing. Actually managing to delete two whole chapters at home, a whole other thing, one I can say I did and trust me, I cursed so hard I’m pretty sure I made a sailor blush! Rest assure, to avoid this from ever happening again I made an extra back up of this fiction. Anyway, we’re back on track and thank you once again for the love these past updates.

 

Fuck sleep! Just like that he’s wide awake. “Come again, boo?” He has to know, right this very instant, his mind isn’t playing some sleep deprived trick on him. The redeeming answer however doesn’t come. What does come is Adam’s deep, steady breathing and it has Tommy mumbling a bunch of profanities against Adam’s shoulder blade. For a whole six seconds he’s actually contemplating - he truly is - waking Adam up and asking him face to face before changing his mind, deciding to trust his gut instead. He and Adam _did_ come a long way in these last hours.

Listening how Adam’s deep breathing morphs into soft snoring Tommy’s mind starts drifting back to his conversation with his mom earlier as he snuggles even closer to Adam.

_“What can I do, mom? What do I have to do?”_

_“Right now?,” she asks. “I’d say, the best thing you can do right now is give Adam some time and space while being there for him.”_

_“Time? We don’t really have time, mom,” Tommy points out. “We’ve got a tour to start, remember?”_

_Grabbing her son’s head with both hands, she forces him to look her straight in the eye. “Make time so you can give him time, Tommy.” Some things are easier said than done. "What if... What if Adam want to go through-" He can't bring himself to say it. What if Adam really wants an abortion?_

_“Sweetheart, ultimately the decision isn’t yours alone to make and no one says it needs to be made tonight. Be with him, be together. Dare to be vulnerable even when he needs you to be strong. Tell him how you feel about it, open and honestly.”_

_Tommy simply shrugs. Though it sounds all pretty easy in theory, actually doing all that shit will no doubt be a whole lot more difficult and he hasn’t got a clue on where to start at this point._

_“Don’t go there, sweetheart,” his mom tells him. She’s all too familiar with the demons that sometimes pull her baby down. “Don’t do this to yourself, Tommy.”_

_“How the fuck can I not!?!" he snaps. "It's my baby he's carrying, mom! For fuck sakes, don’t you fucking get it?! I want this! I want this baby! I want this so fucking much!” He doesn’t mean to take it out on her, but fuck the world for not getting his frustration, it’s not going to change anything, but it will help. Some. Maybe. Kind of. That’s how, fists clenched, he screams out his frustration in his mom’s kitchen cursing every Saint he can think of from here to all eternity._

_“That’s enough, youngman!” she tells him firmly. While she’s all for allowing him to be himself and spill his guts, it doesn’t mean she’s going to put up with everything and be ok with it. He knows as much, his mom is a fierce little woman. “Sorry,” he mumbles, suddenly captivated by an air bubble appearing in his mom’s dhow. He’s about to break it with his finger when she gives him a slap on the wrist. “Stop putting your fingers in my dhow!” There’s no heat behind her words. ”Here, use a spoon instead,” she offers._

_A minute into the silence that fell upon them Tommy’s mom breaks it. “Honey, I want you to listen to me for a second,” she begins. “Your dad and I never told you this, nor your sister for that matter, but I feel now is the moment to do so.” Her words have Tommy bracing himself for whatever is about to come next. No one says such a thing if they don’t plan on dropping a bomb onto someone’s head. “You and your sister aren’t the only children I carried.” The words are hitting Tommy right in the gut; he barely has time to catch his metaphorical breath when the story goes on. “We didn’t know I was pregnant until -,” she pauses, clearly overwhelmed by this unexpected trip down memory lane, “until I had a miscarriage."_

_Of all the things he was somewhat prepared to hear, this wasn’t one of them. Not by a long shot! Not knowing what to say, he simply hugs him mom closely. “I was just over four months when we lost our baby. The reason I’m bringing this up, sweetheart, is I know, too damn well, how a part of Adam must feel right now. Unconsciously, I was so afraid of something happening to the baby when I was pregnant with your sister, I didn’t bond with her throughout a part of my pregnancy. I fought this feeling that was blooming deep inside of me. It wasn’t until I felt her move inside me I no longer could hold back this powerful love that washed over me. While I cannot speak for a man, I can’t hardly imagine there’s much difference between maternal and paternal instinct. Knowing, feeling this little person grow inside you is one of most powerful feelings ever. The reason I’m bringing this up, sweetheart, is that I’ve rarely met a man who has a bigger heart than Adam. You and I know just how much love he has to give. You have got to give him time to process it all. Trust me when I say this, Tommy, when Adam’s paternal instinct will surface, and it will, he’ll be overwhelmed b_ y _it.”_  

Finding comfort in both his mom’s words as well as in Adam’s closeness Tommy drifts off to sleep. 

Many hours later, Tommy is slowly waking up to the sound of writing, which isn't all that unusual to him. Adam, as it turned out, not only has a thing for early morning writing sessions, he also enjoys the tactical sensation of it. What is definitely not a part of that usually quiet routine is the way too exciting, not to mention, way too loud mumbling that is reaching his ears. He's about to ask what Adam’s working on when Adam all but jumps out of bed, effectively pulling _all_ the covers with him and brutally killing the blissful whole five-more-minutes thing he was having. So _not_ cool! 

He’s too stunned to register whatever Adam’s rambling on about at 300 miles per hour. It's not like he's not listening or something, but come on! Not everyone's mind switches on like a freaking TV screen. Push button, wait 2 seconds and voilà, it's on. Tommy's brain needs a considerable amount of very, very long minutes to get anything remotely close to a functioning state. Plus, as if the brutal wakeup call isn’t bad enough his manhood is experiencing some major shrinkage because well, he’s butt naked and currently freezing his nuts off. “Jesus fucking Christ dude! Just what the fuck you think you’re doing waking a man up like that!?!” he spits out in Adam’s face stealing the covers back. “The fuck is wrong with you?!?” Tommy growls out. 

He’s in the middle of rolling himself into a ball, trying to get himself warm again when he spots Adam, a very naked Adam at that, who’s still standing there, in the middle of their bedroom. It’s the radiant smile on Adam’s face that has him asking to start over whatever the hell he was saying to begin with.

However, Adam doesn’t speak, if anything his smile gets even brighter. Tommy’s watching Adam walking over to their bed, handing him the open notebook he’s still holding in his hand. The whole scene seems so surreal that for a split second Tommy’s expecting the book to self-destruct or whatever. 

Looking down to see what Adam has been writing, smacks the air right out of his lungs. It’s a to-do list, a _baby’s_ to-do list. 

Two seconds is all it takes to untangle himself from under the covers and get all into Adam’s space. “You…You’re sure? You’re abso-fucking-lutely, one hundred percent sure of this? Please, tell me I’m not hallucinating this.” He’s so excited his words all tumble over themselves as he rushes them out. 

“Am I sure? Yes, I’m sure. Do I have doubts? Babe, I’m scared shitless,” Adam admits. ”Doesn’t mean I don’t mean what I said.” 

“So, we’re having a baby?” Tommy checks again. His heart is beating so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if they could pick it up on a satellite feed. 

“Yep. Besides,” Adam jokes, placing his hands protectively over his belly, “it’s already on route.” 

The look on Tommy’s face is one of disbelief, one of pure happiness, one of love. “Holy fucking shit! We’re having a baby! We’re having a motherfucking baby!” Tommy squeaks. He’s beside himself. He’s actually glowing, two seconds away from growing wings and taking off to cloud nine if he wasn’t hugging the life out of Adam. 

Just like that Tommy lets go of Adam and goes down to his knees, pulling Adam closer by the hips, planting a rain of kisses to Adam's abdomen, whispering words too soft for Adam to understand to their unborn child. So what if looks a little strange? Tommy couldn't care less, the one and only thing on his mind right now is having the love of his life and their baby close. 

Watching Tommy pressing his ear against his naked skin Adam can’t hold back his curiosity. "Babe, what are you doing?” he whispers. Somehow, he feels like he’s intruding something important. 

Tommy holds up his hand, indicating Adam to keep quiet. Not even bothering to look up, he shares what it is he’s doing. “I’m trying to find out if I can hear it move.” It shouldn’t be this easy, yet the truth is, the words turn Adam into a puddle of goo. Not knowing what to say and not wanting to disturb Tommy’s time, Adam laces his fingers through Tommy’s hair, opening himself up to feel whatever emotion Tommy's ready or willing to share with him.

Over breakfast both men agree the first thing they need to do, before anything else is set up another appointment with Doctor Sloan. They’ll need some decent answers in order to schedule or reschedule whatever is ahead of them. Adam makes the call and true to his word Doctor Sloan left instruction to fit them in. Their appointment will be later that day, after the official closing time of the practice for which Adam is even more grateful. He has to talk to his management before this gets out to the public eye. 

The first thing Adam does when they reach the practice is apologize for his prior behavior, insisting he will pay for any damage he caused. The second thing he does is asking for another ultrasound, he needs to see it with his own eyes. Just like last time, Tommy cannot bite back the ‘holy shit’ that slips past his lips. Adam on the other hand is lost for words, entranced by what he’s seeing on the small black and white screen. It’s a weird looking mini person, with even more weird looking movements and yet it is, by far, the most touching thing he’s seen. “I love you so much, baby,” Tommy whispers, lacing both their hands together. 

Both of them are staring at their very first ultrasounds when Doctor Sloan takes his seat. “Now, I will give you the same speech I give to all future parents,” he starts cheerfully. “Fair warning, it’s quite long, so bare with me and do feel free to interrupt me at any given time should you have questions.” 

Turning to Adam, Doctor Sloan continues. “Adam, you’re pregnant. It is a physical condition, not a contagious disease. You won’t die or break because of it. Whatever regular activities or sports you did prior to finding out you were pregnant, unless it involves you jumping out of an airplane, by all means keep doing them. What is important is that you listen to your body and your baby. When the baby’s uncomfortable, it will find a way to let you know. If I’m to believe my other patients, a kick in the ribs works miracles. When you’re tired, you rest, pure and simple. There is no need for you to change your diet in any way, just maintain a good day to day hygiene and make sure to drink bottled water while being abroad. You are allowed to have a drink every now and then, just use some common sense and keep it to a minimal.” 

“What about going on tour?” Adam asks. “Will I have to cancel everything?” 

“While at the moment, there is absolutely no reason for concern and no indication what so ever there will be one, I have no way of predicting the future. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t go on tour. I do want to point out that you will need to look out for a full time physician travelling with you and this for two reasons; you’ll be needing a doctor's certificate clearing you to fly once you reach your third trimester and secondly, not taking the flying into account, I know how tiring the whole traveling experience can be, combine this to the actual busy schedule you can get on tour, let’s just say you’ll be more vulnerable to a number of things. Even without the flying I would strongly recommend there would be someone with a medical background going on tour with you. If you want, I can give you a list of people to contact.  Furthermore, I would advise you to interrupt touring one month before your due date as most men tend to go into early labor. When to go back on tour is another matter. Keeping in mind that having a c-section _is_ a big surgery, you'll need to allow your body the time to fully recover afterwards. In short, i recommend you put everything on hold for three months total.

To Adam's record company and management, three months _is_ a long time, a very long time at that. He has no idea how they'll react but he knows, without any doubt what so ever, it will be bad. Tommy can pretty much guess what's behind the deep sighs Adam is leting out; they're both - and Adam way more than him - are going to get so much crap over this from neat suited up assholes. The next few days will be interesting to say the least.

“Now, let’s move over to a much more interesting subject,” Doctor Sloan teases. “Let’s talk sex because believe it or not, I’ve seen and heard a lot of weird misconceptions over the years. Before either one of you asks, yes, you are allowed to have sex. No, you won’t hurt the baby, no matter how well hung you are or who tops or how hard your lovemaking will be the baby will be just fine.” The well hung mental imagine has Tommy grinning like an idiot and ends up in both men having an animated eyebrow conversation. “What is most likely to change, is Adam’s libido. Hormones and physical discomfort can have a big influence on future parent’s sex drive. As you can imagine, as the pregnancy evolves, some positions will become difficult or impossible. This being said, whatever works for you is just fine by me.”

Both Adam and Tommy have some remaining questions going from vaccinations to the use of a sauna to the use of regular painkillers to nursing to the use of a specific kind of lube. Almost two whole hours have passed when they’re running out of questions and both men are ready to take their leave. Shaking Tommy’s hand, Doctor Sloan cannot help teasing the younger man. “I know I said Adam’s not made out of glass that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve some extra pampering and attention.”  

“Don’t you worry about that, doc,” Tommy affirms,” I intend to be very involved in this pregnancy. It’s not just Adam who’s having a baby; we are having a baby, _together_.” 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't miss the next update this weekend :)

Both are so in awe of the ultrasound pictures, it doesn’t hit neither one until the elevator doors close behind them; the last time Adam had been going down in this same elevator he wasn’t looking as radiating as he is now, neither did Tommy for that matter. Without thinking Tommy does the exact same thing Adam last witnessed in this building. Letting go of his lover’s hand, he leans over and kisses Adam’s belly, thus replacing Adam’s bad memory with a dear one of their own.

On their way home, with Tommy at the wheel, a quick check of Adam’s emails confirms tomorrow will be a very long, very tiring and very emotional draining day indeed, one both of them, would love to have it over and done with already. Meeting with the goons of Tomorrow’s Music Talent, Adam’s label, is the first and most important meeting on their agenda. At this point, it’s undeniably one, if not _the_ most important meeting Adam will have held so far in his career. After texting back and forth with both his parents and his musical director it’s decided that after their rendezvous at TMT they’ll be off to the rehearsal studio to not only tell everyone involved with the tour the big news but also and foremost what the professional ramifications will be of them becoming parents. Last but certainly not least, they’ll end up at Adam’s mom to break the news to Adam’s parents. His dad, being away on business, will be Skyping in for the family gathering. They’re all curious why he insists on seeing them all together as soon as possible, yet to their credit, they don’t push when Adam informs them he wants to deliver the message face to face.

Anticipating neither one will be in a state to drive, Adam arranges for a car to pick them up in the morning to which Tommy gives him a thumb’s up. Between getting ready for bed and brushing their teeth they agree on giving the other one an ‘insult free pass’ for the next day and a promise to give the other one some space coming morning and sure enough when morning comes their anxiety is almost palpable. Where Adam lets off steam on the treadmill; Tommy for his part isolates himself in their studio, letting his guitar speak for him.

Sitting in the car, fingers intertwined, finding comfort and strength in the other one’s presence they keep their thoughts and apprehensions to themselves. Watching how traffic passes them by, both recall the months leading up to this, to the start of this tour. Originally, there wasn't going to be a tour. While music critics and fellow musicians had praised Adam’s latest album over and over, the numbers that matter most for any record company, _sales numbers,_ had been below expectations. Although his album debuted at the top of the charts, and stayed there for the next three weeks, overall the album wasn’t as successful as its predecessors resulting in them crushing down any hope for a worldwide tour early on stating the only touring they would support were short - accoustic - promo tours.

Looking at the man beside him Tommy remembers, all too well, how Adam had fought _hard_ for this tour, how he would argue and debate with them week after week after week. No matter how many times they turned him down, Adam tried over and over to make them see reason backed up by the never ending demands and support of his fans.

Adam’s fans were, _are,_ amazing. While, mostly young, people need and want idols, said idols are absolutely nothing without their fans. It was one thing Adam till this day never had and never would forget. Adam _knows_ his fans love him and he, in return, loves them back just as fiercely.

It was on the second day of the Asian promo tour; having priory agreed on blindly picking out three questions out of bowl and answer them truthfully, a local radio station had asked their listeners to send in questions to Adam. The response had been massive! In the end, the first five hundred had been chosen, hidden inside fortune cookies. True to his word Adam has picked out three cookies and immediately cracked up on reading the first question: _‘Where, outside of the bedroom, did you have sex for the last time?’_

Without blinking an eye and with a wicked smirk on his face, he had admitted that that would have been a hotel bathroom vanity. “And no, I’m not telling you which hotel it was,” Adam teased mischievously, “that is between me and my man.” The second one had been an innocent yet very interesting question about his cooking abilities. The final question however, was the one that unwillingly became  the ground stone to it all. The question said, _‘What do we need to do to have you go on a world tour?’_

The band's discreet smiles and winks and Tommy's nod had spurred Adam on. "It is not up to me, you guys,” Adam confessed,” I would love nothing more than to come see you all again, however a tour is a big investment, one I cannot do without the support of TMT. Believe me when I say I tried. Be loud Glamberts, make yourselves heard. Maybe, just maybe, they'll listen to you."  
  
Thanks to the internet and social networking the message was heard loud and clear. Within seconds and for weeks on end, Adam’s fans all over the world had stalked TMT. They got swamped under tons of calls, e-mails, letters and even petitions. They went all the way and beyond for Adam. Some fans went as far as camping outside the office buildings. It was unheard of in the industry, never before had fans openly protested against a record company and _won!_

Sure enough, deep down, Adam and the public, knew it was a publicity stunt, still, he couldn’t believe his ears when he got the call saying they agreed on a world tour. The airtight, money-milking contract that came with it was a price he was willing to pay. 

A distant voice breaks through both their thoughts. “Gentlemen, we’ve arrived.”

Walking into the building, getting up to the twelfth floor, being greeted by Mary-Jane – the CFO’s assistant -  following her to some fancy ass meeting room all happens in a blur. At the smell of a cup of coffee placed in his hands Tommy snaps out of it. “Sorry, babe. Kinda got lost there for a minute.”

Sipping their coffee they can hear footsteps, a lot of them, coming in closer. “Here comes the cavalry,” Adam says already getting up in anticipation. Tommy follows his lead and rests his hand on his lover’s lower back. “You ok, boo?” “Pretty damn nervous actually,” Adam admits, stealing a kiss in the process. He’s not the only one; Tommy’s actually not that far from becoming a nervous wreck himself. “We’re a team, boo,” he whispers to Adam’s lips. “No matter what they say, we’ll still be a team.”    
   
No sooner than the words leave his lips, the door opens and sure enough, there they are. A whole bunch of people step in and much to Tommy’s surprise and amusement, the first thing he spots is all of the suits wearing folks wear almost the same blatant shiny, not to mention, ugly shoes. He manages, _barely_ , to hold back the chuckle ready to come out. “Look at their shoes! They’re having a fucking team-shoe-building thing going on here,” he can’t help whispering to Adam.  
   
The whole mandatory greeting and introduction barely two minutes behind them, Tommy’s already forgotten at least three of their names, instead, based on what he has seen so far - and to make it easier on himself - he renames some of them. The label’s CFO, Van Dyck, gets renamed Dick. On his left are Head of Sales, Steven Morrison aka ‘Dumb’ and his assistant ‘Dumber’ aka Erwin Falcon followed by Logistics Manager Jake Wright who gets renamed ‘Dumbo’. On Dick’s right is some new kid on the block as Tour Producer with an excotic name that is nearly unpronounceable Tommy names ‘Yuppie Guppie’ and his over the top ass kissing assistant ‘Asswipe’. Mary-Jane - with a cart full of beverages - and familiar faces Tour Manager ‘Papa Joe’ and his assistant Jack aka ‘Metalhead’ complete the cavalry. 

"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice," Adam begins. "Some 48 hours ago I received some unexpected news to say the least that will have an important impact on my future. There's no easy way to say this so I’ll just get straight to the point.” Taking a deep breath, Adam blurts it out; "I'm pregnant, my due date is October 29. I’ve requested this meeting because, on doctor’s orders, parts of the tour will have to be reschedu-."

“What?! How .. How the hell did this happen?” Logistics Manager Wright is the first to speak and Adam ends up giving them a short version of the facts. "You have got to be shitting me!!!”  Morrison lets out, his face turning red with anger. “Jezus fucking Christ!! Get me someone from Legal in here, ON THE DOUBLE!!” And with that the tone is set; phones are being pulled out, assistants are barked in by both Morrison and Van Dyck to check this or that contract, set up this or that conference call. Insurance policies and God knows what else are being requested up by everyone in the room.

"Don't even think about getting out of that chair! That goes for both of you!" Van Dyck spits out, belting out orders to whoever is on the other side of the phone line.

Both Tommy and Adam sit and watch how, out of nowhere more people come running in and back out. It’s like a watching a goddamn nest of stock brokers, with Duracell batteries up their ass. Every single one of them walking and talking over each other, making absolutely no sense what so ever to the naked eye. There’s people waving papers around, others are making some weird looking hand signs. Tommy can’t help thinking some must be actual reformed stock traders. Forget trying to get what is being said, hell having a meaningful conversation at a Slipknot concert is a walk in the park compared to this. The few words that can be made out are far from promising, words like ‘cancellation fees’, ‘consequences’, ‘compensations’, ‘too short notice’, ‘furious’.

Tommy knows, when they’ll be on their own, he'll have a crying Adam in his arms. While he's no cry baby, it's just his way of relieving stress, emotional stress most of all and frankly, who could blame him? Adam is sitting there, amongst it all, with his head held high, taking blow after blow after blow. Tommy’s lost count of the amount of insults, the amount of sighs directed at Adam. The unspoken blame and the actual fact of some douche accusing Adam of lacking professionalism.

This, this is why Tommy remembers having a relationship with a fellow band member isn’t always the best idea. Having a relationship with your boss? That one definitely can suck balls! While in the privacy of their own home, both men are equal partners, inside this meeting room, they're not. Inside this room, Adam's the big star and Tommy, to them, is nothing more than a musician in their money-cow's backup band. He’s got no say here, plus it isn’t his place. Adam is more than capable of fighting his own battles. With that in mind, there’s nothing more he can do, at the moment, other than listening, watching powerless how Adam gets the equivalent of the Rocky Mountains thrown at him. 

Every once in a while doing the right thing isn't doing the right thing, at all. If it wouldn't be for the airtight contract Adam had signed, both men would already be spilling their guts and tell those vultures to go fuck themselves! This time, being the bigger man and walk out on them, right before a world tour, would ruin Adam and not just financially; it would hurt his career in ways neither one can and wants to imagine.

 “Haven’t you people ever heard of protection?" Yuppie Guppie spats out, out of the blue and totally, totally uncalled for. "Aren't you two a little too old to fool around?" Like on cue, being the perfect ass kissing assistant and all, Asswipe nods in agreement, the look of disgust clearly written all over his face at the idea of both men having an intimate relationship. The look on both shitheads’ faces is too much for Tommy, his blood boiling in his veins. “Excuse me?!” is as far as he gets. Feeling Adam’s hand on his knee, giving him a discreet double pinch, he recognizes it for the signal it is and swallows back, albeit under heavy silence protest, the words he wants to shove up Asswipe’s ass.  
  
Though the changes aren’t spectacular Tommy sees it happening, sees the change in Adam’s posture and he waits, waits for Adam’s outburst. Whatever is about to go down, regardless of the outcome, he’s got Adam’s back. Out of nowhere Adam is slamming both hands down on table with such force, it’s literally causing everyone in the room to jump out of their seat, Tommy included. “And who the fuck do you think you are, cupcake?” Adam retorts, getting out of his seat. “How dare you, all of you, to sit on your asses and judge me for this! Haven’t you people heard anything I’ve said? Up until two days ago having a fucking abortion was all I could think about!”

“Says you,” Asswipe snorts.

“Now hold it right there, _pal,_ ” Adam retorts. He might sound and looks composed, inside he’s furious, borderline on having steam coming out of his ears. “I don’t give a fuck who you are, all of you for that matter. There’s no way you’re gonna put this one on me! This whole throwing shit at me has lasted long enough. For the record, while we’re on tour, who is it that keeps our prescriptions? Who’s in charge of filling our jars on the bus? I’m not pointing a finger here, but I’m pretty fucking sure it’s not me, or Tommy for that matter. Your job is to make sure my pregnancy is incorporated into this tour. That is why we are here, that is why you are here. So why don’t you all shut the fuck up and get back to business.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesus!! Again, and yes I know I'm sounding like a broken record here but still: THANK you SO much for all the love!
> 
> Yes, there will be an update next week, just don't know when as I'll be spending it with family for the holidays and on that note let me wish you a very warm and loving Merry Christmas already! Enjoy your time together with your loved ones.
> 
> Much love,  
> Libra_fietje

“Gentlemen,” Van Dyck interrupts, “let’s try and act our age, shall we. I suggest we take a small recess, let’s all meet back here in thirty minutes. Mary-Jane, if you’d be so kind to see to our guests’ needs in the meantime.”

Almost everyone is out of the room when Van Dyck stops Legal Advisor Rohen by the arm. “I don’t care how you do it,” he grits out when there’s no one left but them. ”Just find me a way out of this goddamn mess, one where the price for this whole shebang is on his head instead of ours. He’s got another thing coming if he thinks we’re going to be sponsoring their offspring in any way!"

Adam and Tommy quickly excused themselves and sought refuge in the visitor’s bathroom as it’s the only room where they can have some privacy. “I have a bad feeling about this, Tommy,” Adam admits, pacing around in the small room. “They’re going to screw me over and there isn’t going to be a damn thing I can do about it.”

Tommy knows Adam’s right; he has the same bad feeling creeping up his spine. “Well, you know what they say babe; once a retarded asshole, always a retarded asshole. At least they’re being true to themselves, it would have been way worse if they suddenly had grown a heart.”

 Adam can’t help but laugh and agree with that. “Come on, we better start going back.”

Over the next two hours both men get bombarded with insurance and contract coverage clauses, conditions, exclusions, exceptions to exclusions and a whole lot of big fancy legal words in between. Though not understanding everything that’s being said, they have no problem understanding the basics; everything from fire to earthquakes to war to Adam falling ill and even dying is covered by some insurance policy, everything but Adam’s pregnancy. Because of this and prior signed framework agreements by TMT the redundancy fees and damages that need to be paid mount up to an astonishing high -  eight figures – amount.

“Now, I’m sure you understand Adam, that we can't and will not support the cost of this all,” Morrison says. “After all, we are a business company not a charity organization.”

Tommy’s no fool; financially Adam will be ruined after this. Sure, he’s a big star and sure, he’s making good money and has recently bought his first place, he’s also nowhere near the big earners in the business. The realization is also clear in Adam’s features; head down, jaw tensed.

“Seeing how we believe in you Adam, we’ve gone out of our ways to come up with a solution to this whole mess, one Rohen here is more qualified to explain,” Van Dyck says, motioning the Legal Advisor to take over. 

“I don’t expect you to understand all the legal terms, so I’ll put this down as simple as I can for you.  While we can pull some strings, we cannot perform magic and make this number disappear,” Rohen states pointing to the big red numbers at the bottom of a page. “Rescheduling dates aren’t an issue, getting you a doctor who accompanies you on tour isn’t either, what is however a huge problem is the cost that this entails. To insure we cut our loss to a minimal, we’re come up with a proposal.” Sliding a file over he waits for Adam to take and open it. Inside are three stapled stacks of paper. “Let’s go thought them shall we.” 

Tommy’s jaws drops more than a few times while he listens to their so called proposal.  This isn’t a business proposal; it’s a goddamn death sentence. The first stack of paper is an addendum to Adam’s actual tour contract, basically stating Adam will (almost) work for free during this tour; 90% of all profit, merchandising included, will go to TMT.

The second one, an addendum that applies to every person who goes with on this tour, stating they will agree to a wage loss of 15% for the entire duration of this tour.

The third one is not only unprecedented it’s also and a blatant violation of whatever right Adam has or must have, it also states the addendum to Adam’s contract will only be effective if _each and everyone_ in his tour entourage signs their wage loss acceptance. In the event even only one person refuses the wage loss the cost incurred of rescheduling parts of the tour will be fully borne by Adam and thus effectively ruining him financially.

“We suggest you discuss this with your entourage as soon as possible. You have 72 hours before this proposition expires,” Van Dyck says, already getting out of his chair. Just as he’s about to step out through the door, he turns around, addressing Adam one last time. “Don’t take it personal Adam, this is business and the business world is not made for sissies.”

It takes every ounce of strength and willpower in Tommy’s body not to jump on and over the table and beat that fake smile right off his face. One look at Adam’s face is all it takes to focus on the matter at hand, absolutely nothing is left of the fierce, confident man Tommy knows so well. Shaking hands, slumped shoulders, a look of utter defeat in his eyes.

 “Not here, boo” Tommy whispers behind Adam’s back helping him up, “don’t give these assholes that satisfaction.”

The car door barely closed Adam launces himself in Tommy arms, falling apart under his man’s strong hold. “I can’t, I can’t face them and ask them this,” Adam cries into his shirt. “I’ll lose everything baby, I’m ruined.” Holding Adam closer to his chest Tommy vows to himself that somehow, he will avenge Adam over this. By no way is he going to let this one slip. Each and every one of those fucking ugly motherfucking sons of bitches can go fuck themselves if they think they can get away with this. “I swear, baby, to what and whoever you want me to, I swear you’ll get through this. You’re stronger than that. You don’t need them fuckers.”

Eyes meeting in the rearview mirror Tommy manages to signal the driver to take a couple of tours around the block allowing and hoping Adam will have calmed down some. Apart from Adam’s soft sobs or the occasional sound of him blowing his nose, the drive to the rehearsal studio is silent.

“Let’s get this over and done with,” Adam says, body language all wrong and Tommy can feel it; Adam’s fully expecting the worst.

Joyful laughter is the first and most welcomed sound that greets both men when they enter the building. Following the sound, they find all twenty-four members of Adam’s Glamily in and around the worn down divans, along with scattered lunch and pizza boxes all over the place.

The catcalls and warm greetings quickly die when they see the serious look on both their faces. “Babies, what’s with the long faces? What’s wrong?”

Making place for Adam and Tommy to join the group, Adam takes his usual spot on a large windowsill. "Thanks for staying, guys," Adam begins, nervous as hell, not knowing what face to put on. This is big news and these people aren't some random critics, they're his friends, his second family, not to mention his employees. He's sure it's all going to blow up in his face. "I ... I have an announcement to make. A life changing one as a matter of fact, so I'm just gonna go right ahead and say it." The please don't shoot me left unsaid. "Tommy and I, well we-"

"You guys broke up?" 

Adam shakes his head vigorously. "God, no! No, we're still together,” he affirms, not able to resist looking at the father of his unborn child who is sporting an encouraging smile. 

"Just tell them, boo,” Tommy says, walking over to the windowsill, tucking himself under Adam’s arm, lacing their fingers together, his other arm firmly curled around Adam’s waist. 

 "I'm 13 weeks pregnant….” 

A wave of shocked “oh my god”, “what”, “fuck” resonates all around him and Adam doesn't know what to do with himself when they all go quiet. What is actually nothing more than a few seconds feels like an eternity to Adam. When he dares looking up he sees them all staring at each other, shock and surprise all over their face. It’s such an intense terrifying silence Adam feels like a prisoner of war waiting to be executed by a firing squad, any moment, someone is going to give the order to fire at will. 

In a way, that’s what happens; cheers and clapping erupt all around him. People are jumping to their feet, hugging him, congratulating him, crying tears of joy. Tommy's being hauled out of Adam’s arms and is almost hoisted on Rick’s shoulders by the roadies for a lap of honor when James notices the utter distress on Adam’s face. 

“Boo,” he enquires, “Is something wrong with the baby?” When Adam hides his face behind his hands, he turns to Tommy for answers along with everyone else with them. “Our baby’s fine. Thanks for asking, love. But you’re right, something is very wrong and we need to talk to you guys. I would appreciate it if you’d all listen first and ask questions, if you have any, afterwards.” 

And so, for the second time today, Adam shares the events from the last couple of days. This time around, Tommy actively joins in, taking over when it gets too much for his man. When they reach the part of meeting, Adam can’t hold back the tears that roll down his cheeks, neither men can. No man, or woman, can yo-yo back and forth between such strong emotions in such a short time and not be affected by them. Broken and dishearten, unaware of the shocked gasps around them, he shares what’s been said, informs them of the three month break he must and will take and the implications it will have for them; they’ll be without a job, Adam knows some turned down other good offers to go on this tour with him. He shares the ‘proposition’ TMT made him. “I’m so sorry guys,” he sobs eventually.” I don’t blame you for walking out on me.” 

They all sit there and watch the scene in front of them, while they’ve all seen Adam cry before, whether it were tears of laughter or tears over some sappy chick flick nothing is more throat tightening then witnessing a man, _a friend_ , crumble to pieces over what should and is wonderful news. 

Completely ignoring both men, James gets up, demanding attention from anyone by clearing his throat. “Ok you bitches, listen up. Before we start asking questions, I’ve got two questions for you all. Who in here is with me on sticking by Adam’s side? Fair warning, you better run fast if you decide to turn your back on him. And secondly, purely financially speaking this time, who has a problem giving up 15% to those assholes?” 

Walking out on Adam hasn’t even crossed anyone’s mind yet. Steven, who’s also the light tech and Johan, one of the eight drag queens who’ll be joining them on this tour, both admit, as was to be expected, having troubles with the wage loss; Steven and his girl recently bought a house they’re currently renovating and Johan for his part is a young dad with a special needs kid.

“I get it guys, don’t worry, we all get it,” Sutan tells both men. “Now, let’s ask our questions and we’ll go from there on what’s next.” 

Every question is surprisingly a practical one: when will the tour be interrupted, what if complications arise and the tour needs to be interrupted sooner, keeping in mind the tour will take them to some ‘high risk’ countries what about security and so on. Both men answer to the best of their abilities and Tommy admits the question of bringing in extra security has been looked over by them both. “Don’t get your hopes up though; I’ll doubt very much they’ll make an effort for Adam. Did you know those fuckers had the fucking nerve to accuse Adam of lacking professionalism! They actually asked us if we ever heard of protection for fuck sake!” 

"Adam, who was it that once said and I quote ‘Glamily is family’?" 

"That's right, girl,” James jumps in. “We've got your back. Whatever you need, we ain't going anywhere. Now, rehearsal's cancelled for the day, we're gonna have a little family meeting instead. We’ve got 72 hours to come up with a plan and nobody here is gonna make any permanent decision before this meeting’s over."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New update in a few days :)

Three minutes. Three minutes is all it takes. Opening his mouth, managing the first syllable of whatever word of protest that was surely to come out is as far as Adam gets. “Oh no, you’re not!! Oh hell to the no, girl,” Sutan says fiercely, one hand on his hip, the other one waving dangerously in Adam’s direction, almost accusing. “Don’t even think about trying to stop us here. Go on," he challenges Adam, "I dare you. Now is not the time for you to act like out boss, you moron! Jesus Christ, Adam! Now is the time for you to sit your pretty ass down, shut the fuck up and let us, who by the way are your friends you idiot, help you out and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”  
  
The applause that follows seals the deal and that’s how, in just under three minutes, Adam is completely outvoted, retrograded to a mere bystander. As said bystander he watches how without so much as second thought people come into action; extra food and booze are ordered in, furniture is somewhat rearranged so they can all sit together in a circle. He listens how people call family telling them not to wait up for them later on, how plans with friends are rescheduled. _Because_ _of him._ He even listens – from afar - to the conversation Tommy has with his mom, reassuring her he's fine, that he’s just really tired and, using the upcoming tour as a ruse, how he wants Adam to get all the rest he can get.  
  
He sees it all happening before his eyes and yet, none of it seems to sink in. Adam might as well be looking at a movie in Mandarin or whatever, there are the imagines his mind is recognizing but his brain is not making anything out of the words that go with the images. No matter how he connects the dots, none of it is making any sense, the fact they're doing this for him and not because of him doesn't sink in. He's a fish, a fish drowning on dry land.  
  
The feeling of someone or something bumping his knee draws him back to the present. “Here... I figured you could use one,” Sutan tells him softy, offering him one of two cups of steaming hot tea. They sit in silence for a few minutes, each sipping their tea when Sutan feels the timing’s right. “Listen, boo, I don’t mean to probe but what did your lawyer have to say about all this?” Closing his eyes, taking a few deep breaths Adam’s body language does all the talking for him. With all the commotion, it simply slipped from his mind. “No harm done, love," Sutan says in support, he will never blame or judge his friend over this, or any other thing for that matter. "Call him though, boo. Contract or not, they cannot do this. You have to make a stand, Adam, for your own sanity if nothing else.”  
  
“You’re right,” Adam states, straightening his back some more, expression changing, raising up to be the born leader Sutan knows he is. It fades almost as fast as it surfaced, but it’s there. He knows underneath the fragile, somewhat bruised shell that is Adam right now a force of nature resides. Sutan knows, Adam will come back stronger than ever. With or without some help from his loved ones.  
  
Ceasing the moment, letting them know who he's about to call, Adam walks out of the studio, smiling thankfully at the thumbs up people are sending his way. Closing the double glass door behind him, Adam takes out his phone and makes the overdue phone call.  
  
Nobody expects it to be a short conversation to begin with, however after a while - they're only human - every pair of eyes glances over to the double door.  
  
Even from where he's sitting; on the far end of the room Tommy isn’t the only one who’s noticing it; Adam's body language isn't right; his hands are unnaturally still meaning he's not putting his foot down like he normally would, instead he undergoes the whole conversation, giving in when he should be claiming. Eventually Tommy gives in to the urge, ignoring the well-intentioned “Go kick some ass!” and crosses the room to join Adam who, from the sound of things, is accommodating his own schedule to that of his lawyer’s and he's having none of that. He's past the point of honouring their unspoken agreement of not interfering with Adam's business. The fact that he’s able to steal Adam’s phone right out of his hands, _in the middle of a conversation_ , tells him he's doing the right thing.  
  
“Hello, this is Tommy Joe Ratliff speaking, Adam’s partner," Tommy begins, his voice firm and even, lacing Adam’s fingers between his own. He's in charge here. "As I’m sure you heard over the phone, he’s not being himself for the moment which is also the reason he needs your expertise, like yesterday instead of whenever it suits you.” So what if the tone of his voice is condescending at best? “Now, I know for a fact Adam pays your firm a substantial amount of money and for that reason alone, we shouldn't even be having this conversation!” He raises his voice somewhat. “What I need to know, like right now, is when you or an associate can get here, _today_?!”

By the time he hands Adam his phone back, he has been guaranteed an associate would be joining them this afternoon at the studio. “Thank you,” Adam says, looking so small and so much younger all of a sudden, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“You've done the same for me, baby,” Tommy replies, referring to all the times his mind went over to the dark side and Adam guided him back into the light. Never judging and with the never ending patience of a saint.  Pulling him close, hugging him tight, Tommy’s lips find Adam’s blindly, letting him take over, offering whatever it is Adam needs.

They stay like that for some time,’ hidden’ from the rest, completely unaware of the approving, loving looks they get from their friends, finding comfort in each other’s embrace until Adam’s grounded enough to face the world again. “Better get back there, before they send out a rescue party,” Adam jokes.

Twenty-six heads joining forces proves to be blessing rather than a curse; they work together like a well-oiled machine producing a very tight and productive schedule. Not knowing how Adam’s pregnancy and possible discomfort can or will influence the planned dance routines, no risk is taken.

Two phone calls later, a former theater throne is given a new life as a stage prop on tour. Not only will it look fierce, it will also give Adam the luxury of catching his breath should he need it. The dancers are adamant; adapting the choreography around it will be a piece of cake and will need little rehearsal.

For their part, the roadies volunteer to go get said throne and give it a makeover, promising Adam he’ll love it, which isn’t all that reassuring to him considering their taste or lack thereof. A whole bunch of new ‘clue-queues’ are being created allowing Adam, at any point, to slow down the show or pick up the original playlist by either a simple word or gesture. Of course, much to everyone’s amusement, as they practice some queues, pillows end up being stuffed in and under clothes and the ‘baby-shuffle’ is made up on the spot. 

"Well, Tommy and I already talked about it,” Adam tells them on how they will deal with Adam’s fans. “Being in the public eye, and on tour, only allows so much or should I say so little privacy, but, we actually want to keep it a secret for a while that I'm the one who's pregnant," he confesses. "Not out of shame or anything, we just want to keep it somewhat private. I know my fans. They will, well most of them anyway, respect our demand for some privacy. As soon as TMT will start postponing dates Tommy and I will post an open letter to them, on Twitter, announcing our pregnancy.” 

All earlier kidding aside, the playful baby-shuffle leads to the idea that they’ll all, for as long as Adam’s hiding his pregnancy, will wear paternity-/maternity tops. 

How Adam’s pregnancy will affect Adam’s need for security has not only been the subject of numerous talks between both men already, Adam’s Glamily is also genuinely concerned for Adam’s and Tommy’s well-being in the first place. They’re playing some very small venues, not to mention some risky countries during the upcoming tour. Having a gay artist perform is one thing, having a pregnant gay artist perform is the proverbial X on a treasure map.  Though same-sex pregnancies are widely accepted and protected by the law; in some countries, very violent homophobic protests still take place. As far as the tabloids and paparazzi go, whatever country they come from, they’re all the same; whatever sells a story is worth chasing. 

“Who knows what those crazy homophobes will do, guys,” James points out. “You've seen their protests before. I'm all for making a statement and shit, I also don't have a death wish.” 

Adam sighs, knowing he’s right. "It’s not you they’ll be after. It’ll be me; they'll hunt me down like a damn circus freak." 

Paparazzi aren't exactly known for their tact when it came to pregnant celebrities. Horror stories going as far of paparazzi or even worse; homophobic extremist groups, wearing scrubs, showing up inside maternity wards or dressed up and posing as hotel staff weren't unheard of. 

“Guys, you all, well some of you know I have an older brother right?” Ziggy, who’s Tommy’s guitar tech, steps up to the plate. Most do and nod affirmatively. “Basically, you need a midwife to go with you on tour and you wanna have someone who can watch your back, correct?” Again, Adam nods. “Well, if you give me a minute, I’m fairly confident I can kill two birds with one stone. Let me call someone.” Fishing out his cell phone, the crew all watch Ziggy hit the speed dial.  
  
"You better be dying, fucker!" a tired, yet warm voice grunts out through the speakerphone.  
  
“Love you, too, asshole,” Ziggy retorts, a playful grin on his face. “Alright, I'll make it quick and before you insult me again; you’re on speaker.”  
  
This time it’s not an insult but an infectious laugh that’s heard over the phone. “Better behave than, huh?”  
  
“That or I’m telling mom,” Ziggy threatens kindheartedly. “Listen, bro, I have a favor to ask. You know how I work for Adam Lambert right?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Rub it in, will ya, you little shit!"  
  
"For reasons I cannot elaborate on, he might need extra security in certain legs of the upcoming tour-"  
  
"Against?"  
  
"Crazy ass homophobes and paparazzi wolves in some God hates-"  
  
“Say no more," the warm voice interrupts. "I’m in, dude! When can I meet the man?"  
  
Tommy's frantically waving his arms up and down, trying and managing to get Ziggy’s attention mouthing, “Now!”  
  
"Today, as soon as you can. We’re at the rehearsal studio near Aunt Caroline.”  
  
"Got it. I'll be there in like 2 hours tops."  
  
"Great! Oh and bro? Come in uniform,” Ziggy smiles, a satisfied smirk on his face, enjoying the raised eyebrows and curious smiles on the faces staring back at him.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update? Next Sunday :)

Over the next two hours, twenty-six heads joining forces results in not only a very tight and productive schedule but also in some hilarious moments that have them all doubling over with laughter as they make things up on the spot. 

Not knowing how Adam’s pregnancy and possible discomfort can or will influence the planned dance routines, no risk is taken. Two phone calls later, a former theater throne is given a new life as a stage prop on tour; not only will it look fierce, it will also give Adam the luxury of catching his breath whenever he should need it. The dancers are adamant; adapting the choreography around it will be a piece of cake. The roadies volunteer to go get said throne and giving it a makeover, promising Adam he’ll love it, which isn’t all that reassuring to him considering their taste or lack thereof. Together they come up with a bunch of new ‘clue-queues’ allowing Adam at any point to slow down the show or pick up the original playlist. 

They're having another giggle round over Adam’s drag queens who are having a very, very lively debate and demonstration over having pregnant queens on stage. “Bitch, please! That ain’t a baby belly you’ve got there, that’s old baby fat, girl.” The piercing sound of a whistle stops everyone dead on, heads turning to the direction of the sound. Brian's coming back in with an unfamiliar man at his side instead of a new pack of smokes; mid-forties, slim build, dark hair with a hint of grey on the sides, wearing a perfect tailored dark suit, a dark leather briefcase in one hand, stating the obvious; “Adam, you've got a visitor.” 

“Good afternoon,” the man says, confidently closing the distance between himself and Adam's troop. “I’m Marc Payne, associate at Low, Ball & Lynch. I’m here on Mister Ball's executive request," the man clarifies, holding out his hand to Adam and then Tommy who quickly jumped to their feet at the word 'associate'. 

Maybe it’s the man posture, maybe it’s his voice, all strong and full of authority. Whatever it is, there’s a certain vibe coming off of the man, one that clearly states he’s used to obtaining what he wants, by whatever means necessary and Tommy cannot hide the satisfied smirk on his face as he firmly shakes the man’s hand. Adam’s going to need someone who can and is willing to fight dirty on his behalf and his gut is telling him this is the right man for the job. “Tommy Joe Ratliff, pleasure to meet you, sir.” 

“Likewise,” Marc Payne says. “By the way, I can assure you, Mister Ratliff, I’m worth every dime Mister Lambert pays our firm.” 

Surprised but not impressed, Tommy lifts his head, meeting the man’s eyes dead on. “I’ll believe that when Adam’s safe from those bloodsucking motherfuckers. Make it happen,” he retorts coldly, voice dripping with resentment, not giving a single fuck about his choice of words. 

“Bloodsucking motherfuckers, huh?” Payne replies, eyebrows raised in interest over Tommy’s choice of words and the visible fierce protectiveness with which he looks at Adam whenever his name is mentioned. “Sounds like a challenge. Why don’t we find a more private location, I’m guessing we’ll have a lot to discuss.” 

“No,” Adam says, reaching out to take Tommy’s hand, avoiding him from moving altogether. “They deserve to know the truth,” Adam waves at the people around them, at his extended Glamily, ”this involves them just as much.” 

With that being said, for the third time in as many days, with Tommy filling in some of the missing details, Adam shares the shock of finding out his pregnancy, the impact of Doctor Sloan’s recommendations, their meeting with Adam’s label and the proposition they offered. No sooner than Adam finishes his last words Payne gets into action calling his assistant, requesting a bunch of stuff as well as a joined Skype session. “I’ll need to see those papers as well as the proposal for the others," he says to no one in particular. 

While Tommy's getting the documents from his backpack, Payne boots up his laptop, emails coming in already from his assistant. "Got another laptop I could use to Skype?" 

Adam's techs are setting up the requested connection when Payne's already going over the documents Tommy gave him. Barely halfway the first page an, "they've got some damn nerve putting such shit in there," fills the room. 

They all remain quiet when Payne's Skype meeting comes online; Adam's Glamily partly out of pure disbelief and partly because they're trying to understand the implications behind the legal terms. Adam for his part seems as lost as he was when he confessed being pregnant and Tommy sensing and seeing Adam's helplessness is keeping quiet out of pure rage. He wants to kick some fuckers at TMT all the way to Timbuktu and beyond. He might be fuming; he’s also very much aware how different this meeting is from the one they had earlier. There’s much less chaos going on. Whoever Payne’s talking to, they know their shit. 

When the Skype session is ended, a wave of anxious now what goes around. All are sitting on the edge of their seats, anticipation running through their veins. Whatever happens next is also the proverbial point of no return. Adam either ends up with everything or nothing at all. 

“Alright,” Payne begins, “judging the look on all of your faces I’m guessing an explanation is in order. Basically, TMT has been counting their chickens before they hatched.  This entire ridiculous proposition is based on interpretations on one hand and a whole lot of acrimony, incompetence and utter unwillingness on the other. It’s a dirty trick, one I cannot blame them for trying to pull. This being said, they’re not the only ones who can play this game.” 

Looks are shared all around, fists are being bumped for good luck and Tommy pulls Adam even closer, supporting the most of his weight as Adam melts into Tommy’s warmth. 

“I don’t mind having you all in the room while I will be conducting the negotiations with TMT. However, I need you all to let me do my job and shut the hell up while I work. I will not tolerate _any_ distraction!” Satisfied with the silent nods he gets back, Payne makes a final call to the head office. “Everything set up on your end?” 

No one knows whatever he means by that. No one cares. Shit is about to go down and they all have front row seats to a fight of epic proportions. Payne takes of his jacket, rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, reorganizes some notes he took before picking up the phone. 

“Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time, Miss. I am Mister Lambert’s legal representative and I’m telling you, _right now_ , to put me through to Mister Morrison’s office,” Payne orders.” If he was able to find the time to fuck my client over this morning, he sure as hell has the time to discuss this over a video conference,” Payne declares. 

“Please hold the line.” Twelve damn long minutes into one of Beethoven’s symphonies, Morrison miraculously manages to clear his schedule and his face shows up on Payne’s screen. 

The entire Glamily is so engrossed by the legal bickering none of them notices Ziggy leaving the room at one point or returning with two visitors a little later. “What’s up with the freaking command post?” the tallest one asks quietly, casually leaning against the back wall, referring to the scene in front of them. “It’s Adam’s lawyer," Ziggy whispers back in a harsh disapproving tone, "his record company is trying to screw him over."

An arm is thrown over his shoulders, pulling him back effortlessly against the wall, efficiently trapping him between the wall and a firm body as said body takes the same position against the wall as the taller man. “Let’s see what happens, bro.” 

With each passing minute it's becoming more and more clear, much to Adam's despair and his lawyer's utter frustration, TMT is stubbornly clinging on to their proposition, repeating the same meaningless stuff over and over. 

“Oh! For crying out loud, Mister Morrison!” Adam’s lawyer snaps impatiently, getting out of his seat, grabbing the Skype-activated laptop as he starts pacing back and forth, “I would appreciate it if you didn't insult my intelligence or that of my client for that matter. I don’t know about you, dear sir,” he says accusingly,” but both Mister Lambert and I have better things to do with our time than discuss such bullshit,” Adam’s lawyer deadpans, putting the laptop down on a stack of cases, leaning into the screen. “I can assure you I have heard a lot of crap over the years, yet this,” he waves his hand up in the air, “this is a whole new level of plain stinky shit and you damn well know it! So may I suggest you cut the crap so we can finally get to the fucking point?” 

More than a few eyebrows, Ziggy’s included, are raised in surprise at this sudden change of conversation. Up until this point the only things that were thrown back and forth, in a somewhat civilized manner were insurance clauses and rules and a bunch of way too long regulations. Others are looking at each other, unsure of what to make of it all and judging the muffled sound coming from the Skype connection, so does the other side. 

“You seeing what I’m seeing?” Ziggy’s brother whispers to the taller man.

“Yep,” comes the whispered reply, ” I see a bun in the oven and one tight bunch of brothers.” It didn't take long for both men to notice the metaphorical elephant in the room; unknowingly, Tommy simply cannot keep his eyes or his touch away from his lover's belly. He's drawn to it. Tommy's touches are subtle, creating an almost sacred, secret intimacy between them. Both men witness how every time Adam laces their fingers together over his belly, a proud secretive smile appears on Tommy's face. The kind of smile only a father to be has.

Both visitors also notice how Adam and Tommy are not only very much in love, they're also partners, their complicity showing in the way they lean on each other, both physically and emotionally. It is however the unconditional support and camaraderie, even in silence, among the group that touches their military hearts the most. Semper Fidelis, regardless of the shape it comes in, can and will form an instant bond between any and all military men and plain civilians. 

“How far along is he?" Ziggy’s brother asks suddenly in the midst of the commotion. 

Head snapping up in surprise, "How do-," 

"Hate the game, Zig. Not the player.“ The man smiles down at the younger man, cocking his eyebrows in a ‘are you kidding me’ kind of way. 

“Don't know what you're talking about,” Ziggy says casually, trying to hide the sudden nervousness in his voice. The question caught him off guard, that’s all. Truth be told, he should have known they would catch on to it; after all neither men had made it into the elite without some serious observation skills. Ziggy knew, from their stories among other things, it was what made the difference between kill or be killed. 

"Ssshhh," Ziggy hushes him urgently. "Listen" 

“In that case, gentlemen,” Payne says calmly, taking the time to actually smile at the camera, “I suggest you get yourselves familiar with the ruling in the Mathews versus American Recordings case.” Another bright smile is flashed. "The good name of Tomorrow’s Music Talent will be ruined should word get out on the street. Plus, between you and me,” Payne almost whispers, “it would make my client even more appealing to a certain big record company.” 

The reaction is instantaneous. “Who’s after Adam?” 

“That’s for us to know and for you to guess, Mister Morrison. Now, you have exactly forty-five minutes to get back to me. If we haven’t heard from you by then, a formal complaint will be filed with the court first thing tomorrow morning.” Not giving Tomorrow’s Music Talent the time to reply, Payne ends the video call. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, we wait.” 

"What's with the Matthews versus whatever the fuck case?" Tommy wants to know. 

“In short," Payne explains, "the Mathews versus American Recordings case is a ground-breaking ruling setting a precedent in the music industry. Simply put, it allows musicians – who can clearly demonstrate the exploiting nature of their contract - to unilaterally break said contract providing they pay a fee to the label. The fee is equal to the wage said musician would earn between the time of termination and the normal ending of the contract.” 

Looking over to where Adam and Tommy are sitting, Payne says the words that are making everyone breathe a little easier. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Mister Lambert. We might have to take this to court if those idiots refuse to see reason. Although I’m fairly confident it won’t come to that. The stakes, for them that is, are simply too high.” 

It’s not much to go on but it lifts everyone’s spirit. People are getting up to get some booze, to take a leak. Others to grab a smoke and that’s how Steven’s the first to notice more visitors have arrived. “Yo guys!” he calls out. “Zig’s brother’s arrived. And he brought along a friend.” 

"Come on," Ziggy tells the visitors," that's my queue to get you guys introduced." All eyes turn to the two, very tall, men he’s accompanied by, dressed in formal military uniforms, a few medals pinned on their chests. "Guys,” Ziggy turns to them, a sense of immense proud in his gestures. ”Meet my brother, former Special Forces Medical Sergeant Jordan Jinx McGarrett and his partner, retired Navy Seal Petty Officer 1st Class, Gregory Peterson."

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for staying by my side during this adventure!
> 
> Next update, one week from now... And yes, tour's getting really close!

Ever watched men in uniform, any kind of uniform for that matter, enter a classroom full of eight year olds? It’s exactly the reaction they’re having, each and every one of them. They’re all up on their feet in seconds, hovering around Ziggy and both men all giddy and stupidly over-excited. An endless flow of “Oh my God!” “Fuck!” “Duuuude!” “Wow!” fills the air as they, no kidding, form an actual line to shake their hands. 

Both men literally tower over everyone, hell both Adam and Sutan look small, almost fragile in comparison to them and neither one can hardly be called short. They’re imposing leaving Tommy very, very much impressed. 

For sure, Tommy’s not the world’s tallest man, nor is he the shortest in the gang, yet the knowledge of soon standing next to Izzy’s brother and his friend feels intimidating. Both men already look fucking huge and he's not even standing next to them and it’s not just in height. Tommy’s sure it applies to both men: just _one_ of their upper arms is bigger than his thighs, _combined._  

The closer he gets the more obvious it becomes; they're the Giants and he’s Tom Thumb. He knows it’s not a smart move but that has never stopped him before; looking up to both men doesn't simply involve raising his head a little. No, it involves stretching his neck _all_ the way up. "Hey dude," Tommy asks all casually to Gregory who's the closest to him, "how's the weather up there?" Yes, it is a bad joke. Yes, it is a total cliché but he cannot, not in a million years, not ask it anyway. Fuck proper introduction, this had to be done. 

Medical Sergeant Jordan Jinx McGarrett and his partner share a conspiring look. Raised eyebrows. A smirk. A simple nod of the head. _Roger_. "Why don't you come see for yourself, squirt?” Gregory proposes, a hint of challenge in his eyes. 

Before he can even come up with a decent reply Tommy is being hoisted up, by one single, shovel-sized, hand. He’s effortlessly thrown into the air, screaming like a girl, hands and legs flying all over the place like a rag doll's limps, trying to hold on to something, anything basically. Next comes another gigantic hand, supporting his back with surprising gentleness and just like that he finds himself sitting on Gregory Peterson’s shoulder - the same way he does with his niece or his friend's kids sometimes - looking down at everyone. 

It's embarrassing. Emasculated is the first thing that comes to mind and he can feel his cheeks flush a bright shade of red. Come to think of it, it's also pretty freaking badass. No crazy ass lunatic will be able to touch his man with a Navy fucking Seal at their side. Whatever it takes to have such a man protect Adam, he’ll do it. 

"Jesus fucking Christ!!” Tommy yells all faux indignantly. “Dude! You've gotta like, warn a brother, man!" The entire Glamily is doubled over with laughter and it doesn't take long for him to join them. He can only imagine what a ridiculous sight it must have been, plus, he’s got a good sense of humour. 

When Adam ends up catching his breath, he struts over, looking up to Tommy who's looking down at him. "Hey baby," Adam smiles. "How's the weather up there?" It sends the group into a new round of laughter and Tommy giving him the finger, _with both hands._ "Fuck. You.” 

"Mind if I ask what they stand for?" Tommy asks, pointing to the medals pinned on both men's chests once his feet are firmly on the ground again, formal introduction over and done with. 

"Not at all," former Special Forces Medical Sergeant Jordan Jinx McGarrett says, who insisted on being called Jinx. Jinx's medals include a Bronze Star and a Combat Medical Badge and were mostly earned on his double tour in Iraq. His story takes them to a dark Tuesday at the end of his third and last overseas tour in Afghanistan. "Too many deaths, too many mutilations left me drained. I felt so helpless," Jinx remembers. "That's why when I got home I went to med school again to become a midwife, specializing in same-sex pregnancies. I needed to see the beauty, the innocence of life again. I’ve been working at Saint-Johns for almost three years now,” Jinx elaborates. “Best decision I ever made.” 

"Did you kill someone?"

"I'm not proud of it. But, yes. I have."

Brooklyn, one of Adam's drag queens, who’s sitting next to Navy Seal Petty Officer 1st Class, Gregory Peterson, aka G, is the first to make the connection. "Oh my God, is that a Purple Heart? But that means,-" 

“Rocket launcher versus SUV. Rocket won," G offers simply, not elaborating much more on the subject except it happened on his third tour in Afghanistan. “My left side got beat up pretty badly when we got hit; punctured lung, broken leg… Lost a kidney back there, too,” G goes on, minimalizing his severe injuries. “I retired from active duty right after I got discharged from the hospital. I’ve been working for the Feds ever since, training and recruiting future agents for numerous bureaus.” 

James, who else, is the one who dares to ask the question that’s been lurking around the corner ever since both men came in. “So you guys are like what? … Tour buddies?” 

Jinx laughs, heartily and carefree, lacing his fingers with G, showing off their matching rings. “He’s my better half.”

“Wait… Now hold a minute… What?!?” Ziggy’s dumbfounded. “When the fuck did this happen?!?” 

Who ever said or claimed marines are coldblooded killer machines is dead wrong: machines don't blush and they _are_ blushing. “It was an old traditional mating ceremony, it holds no legal value here,” Jinx says, almost apologetically. Regretfully. 

Small as he might be, Ziggy pulls both men onto their feet, hugging them fiercely. “Don’t care. I’m so happy for you two.”

“Bro, our plane landed early this morning,” Jinx says, hugging his brother back for dear life. “We were planning on telling you all at this weekend’s barbecue.” 

From family barbecue the conversation moves over to food, to booze, to parties, to sex. The conversation never falters; it just keeps going, proving just how well Jinx and G would fit right in. They're smart, down to earth, and they have a wicked sense of humour. 

When they reach the topic of sex, Jinx comes clean to Adam. “Blame my training will ya. Couldn’t help notice something, Adam.” Adam swallows having a feeling of what will come next. “How far along are you?” 

Adam doesn’t get to answer. Instead his stomach is not the only one that drops over the deep end at the sound of the incoming video call.  Just like that, the temperature in the room rises up exponentially, sucking all the winds out of Adam's lungs. Tommy is by his side in a heartbeat. “It'll be fine,” he mouths to Adam. It has to be. He doesn’t even want to imagine what it’ll do to Adam should TMT refuse Payne’s proposal. “I hope so,” Adam whispers back, tightening his hold on Tommy.  He doesn’t tell Adam’s it’s getting close to being painful. He stays quiet, pressing his body even closer to Adam’s side. Everybody's leaning closer; some hold hands, some cross their fingers, some look up to the sky. 

“Mister Morrison, tell me this hasn’t been a waste of valuable time,” Adam’s lawyer start of the bat. There's no point in waisting any more time.

“After careful consideration and much debate, we accept your proposal.” The tone is all wrong, the word are forced out, clearly indicating their reluctance. 

 _We accept your proposal._ Tommy eyes go wide. Adam lets out the breath he was apparently holding since the beginning of the conference call. Fists are bumped, thumbs up are shared. 

"Wonderful!” Payne shoots back, totally ignoring the hostile tone of voice. “Did you get that, Miss Finn?" Payne continues imperturbably. 

"Finishing up the text as we speak, sir. It'll be ready to send over in five minutes," a woman's voice perks up from the second laptop. 

"Perfect! Mister Morrison, as I'm sure you've overheard, a transcript of this entire conversation has been written down by my secretary and will be mailed to you shortly. I expect you to confirm, by returning email, the authenticity and content of said transcript. We will make up the official documents accordingly and have them send to your office before Monday noon. May I suggest you keep Monday afternoon open so we can have this agreement signed? ” 

Pointing to himself and Adam, Jinx mouths “I’m in!” to Payne. 

“Can you also take note that Mister Lambert has already found both extra security as well as a flying doctor who will accompany him on tour. I would be grateful if you can also provide me the contact information for Mister Lambert’s medical insurance. His policy will need to be altered accordingly.” 

An annoyed sigh breaks the silence. “Fine!” Morrison snaps, “I’ll put the information in the returning email.” 

“It’s been a pleasure working with you, Mister Morrison,” Payne nags. “May I be bold as to remind you that I expect a written confirmation regarding our agreement-“ 

“You’ll have it,” Morrison mumbles. Disconnecting the video call clearly frustrated. 

“Gigantor,” Tommy jokes, looking up to meet the man's eyes. “Welcome to the family, dude," shaking Jinx's hand again before bumping his shoulder into the taller man's body. 

“Thanks, man... I mean, Shorty,” Jinx replies, shoving Tommy back playfully. 

“Alright, guys, since you’re all here,” Jinx starts, his whole composure changing from goofball to lethal weapon. “I wanna set out three ground rules.” Glancing down over them all, he demands respect by his body language alone. 

“Rule number one; while my main job will be Adam’s safety, you need to understand I cannot do this without your help. Yes, I can and have no problem being a pain in the ass. No, I'm not the enemy. If anything, I'm your friend and as your friend I'm going to listen to you just as you are going to listen to me. You want to go out? Hit the local clubs? That's cool, as long as I know about it. You wanna bring a willing body back to use and abuse as you see fit all night long?  Once again, as long as I know about it and you use protection I’m cool.  Security is a team effort and there is no _me_ in team, only _us_.” 

“Rule number two,” Jinx carries on, walking up and down in front of them. “I’m not a babysitter. Wanna get shitfaced, wanna get high? Whatever, you’re old enough to know what you’re doing,  just don’t expect any sympathy from me when you’re having a bad trip, puke your guts out or suffering the hangover from hell. Rule number three and this one applies to Adam only; doctor’s orders override _any_ and _all_ other command. When I tell you, from a medical point of view, to take it slow and sit your ass down, I expect you to do it. Is that clear?!” It’s not a question. It’s a command, to all of them. 

“Yes,” Adam affirms, fighting the strange urge to stand up and salute the man. “Yes.” “Yes!” Each and every one voices their agreement to Jinx’s proposal. “Well I guess that settles it, guys,” Sutan’s looking way too pleased with himself. “We’ve got ourselves a combat boots wearing lethal weapon midwife, ladies and gents.” 

“Hold on guys,” Steven interrupts.  “Mister Payne,” Steven calls effectively stopping Payne gathering his papers. “sir, I have a question regarding the documents TMT made up for us. Is there a way you can modify it so that we can voluntarily donate a percentage of our wages in favour of Adam?” 

The question’s unexpected to say the least. “Steven, no!” Adam says, silenced by a death glare “I will not have it, boo. You have no say in this. I'm doing this to make a stand too. I will not stand by and be a pawn in some frustrated, dumbass, professional wanker’s sick game. I don't care what they’ll use the money for, Adam. Hell, you can have it donated to charity or use it for the baby’s college trust fund,-“ 

“I want the same document,” Sutan chirps in, clapping his hand in utter excitement. 

“Me too.” “Ditto.” “Count me in!.” By unanimous decision it is agreed that, even though it is no longer needed, each and every one of them is voluntarily going to accept a pay check cut which will be used to pay for Jinx’s travel expenses or G’s when he comes to visit his man on their downtime. 

“Alright,” Payne says, “I will adapt the current proposition. I’ll have it drafted out so that you can all individually fill in the percentage you are willing to give up. And for the record, I will not charge anyone for this. Consider this our contribution to the baby’s college fund. I’ll have your documents with me, next Monday. The only thing you all need to do, is come to TMT and sign the addendum.” 

The applause and cheers that follow are deafening! Forget the Super Bowl. Forget the NBA. Real friendship produces the loudest decibels. People are hugging, crying, jumping in and out of the couches. It’s a madhouse. In the midst of it all, lost in their own little world Adam and Tommy have become one, totally unaware of whatever goes on around them. Somehow, at some point, Tommy ends up in Adam’s lap, straddling his thighs, cupping his face. “You made it, baby,” his voice breaks.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I missed last week's update guys... Came down with a bronchitis and every other -itis you can think of :(  
> Now that I'm feeling a human being again, here's the overdue update :)
> 
> Once again, thank you all SO much for the love. It means a lot! <3

“What time is it?" 

"Two whole minutes later then the last time you asked," Tommy says, smiling at a nervous Adam who's pacing in their living room. 

After yet another emotional rollercoaster ride yesterday the boys had been all but kicked out of the rehearsal studio once the good news had sunk in. “Go home, guys. Upcoming tour or not, you’re going to take a break and be together. Break the news to those who matter, share the news with the fans if you feel like it. In the meantime, we’ve got our work cut out for us,” Sutan said, pointing to the list they worked on earlier. “Now, get your pretty asses moving and meet us back here Saturday morning, same time, different day.” 

“God,” Adam sighs, “I’m a nervous wreck already and mom isn’t even here yet.” 

“Nervous, you say,” Tommy chastises good-heartedly. “Dude! I would never have guessed.” 

A flip of the bird and some funny faces back and forth ease some of Adam’s nerves. "This is worse than that time where my parents walked in on me watching porn,” he confesses, making a quote-unquote sign, “and having the whole Adam-we-love-you-honey-we're-not-disappointed-in-you-but-just-so-you-know-porn-is-not-making-love-conversation. It left me mortified, especially when it turned into a safe sex talk where condoms and a Goddamn cucumber appeared out of thin air.” Shivers run down his spine as he recalls that _traumatising_ moment. No teenager, no matter how big of a shithead, should have to endure this. It had been beyond humiliating. 

Tommy can’t take it anymore and doubles over, having to actually grab to back of a chair to keep him upright. He can totally see it happen in his mind, a young Adam blushing crimson with embarrassment over his parents, _no doubt_ , well-intentioned and encouraging actions. "No way!?!” 

"Yes way!" 

A familiar ring pattern announces the arrival of Adam’s mom, saving him from some – up to no good – wicked reply Tommy was about to utter. 

Tommy watches from a distance how Adam and his mom hug each other fiercely, how he eventually picks her up effortlessly and how she, in return, pinches his cheeks. It’s a part of their mother-son relation that, strangely enough, never made it to the outside world. Adam’s a momma’s boy, always was, always will be. 

Knowing his own time with his boyfriend's mom will follow shortly Tommy leaves them having some private moments and goes off to the kitchen to make some coffee. By the time he makes his way back carrying a bright red tray containing a fresh pot of coffee, some cream and sugar and three mugs Adam has his laptop set out. 

He finds himself pulled into Leila's arms as soon as the tray’s put down and he gives back just as much. It runs in the family, _the infamous Lambert hug_ , it’s not a quick come-here-and-let's-hug-kind-of-thing. No, it a full body contact hug, warm and solid and so, so  inviting. It’s the kind of hug you easily lose yourself in. “What’s up with Adam,” she whispers in his ears. “I haven't seen him this nervous in a while.” 

“Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough,” he whispers back mysteriously. “Besides, we’re still one man short.” 

Not for long though, all too soon, the incoming sound of a video call can be heard. 

"Morning folks, San Diego is in the house,” Adam's dad chirps in, waving at the camera.

Halfway through his second cup of coffee Adam and his parents are still making small talk. Tommy recognizes it for the sign that it is; Adam is nervous, he tends to ramble on about random stuff before getting his act together and blurt it out. 

Setting his mug on the table, he moves closer to Adam, pressing a kiss to the side of his head, lacing their fingers firmly together. He keeps out of the conversation, but, at the same time, he's there, right in the middle of it, right where he should be; at the side of his better half. 

"Mom,” Adam starts, drawing strength from Tommy’s simple gesture, “dad,” looking over to his father on his laptop screen. “Tommy and I, well technically it's just me…. “Adam takes a deep breath. “… I'm pregnant." 

"Say again?" 

"I'm pregnant, mom." 

Adam misses it completely, having his arms full a crying Leila. “Baby, oh my baby,” she chokes out over and over again, her hand coming to rest on Adam’s abdomen. Tommy doesn’t. He sees the uttered curse on Eber’s lips before the connection is ended and doesn’t know what to make of it.  Luckily for him he’s drawn away from these dark possibilities as he finds himself pulled between Adam and Leila. “My boys,” she cries, “my precious boys. I am so happy for you two.” 

In the background, muffled by the sound of happy tears, Tommy hears Adam’s phone go off, than his, than Adam’s again before switching back over to his. “I’ll be right back, gonna go check what the big emergency is all about.” 

Finding his phone, he learns he’s got four missed calls, as he’s about to check who they’re from his phone starts to ring in his hand. It’s Adam’s dad. “Tommy!! Finally, someone’s picking up their phone!” Eber all butts screams in his ear. The connection isn't good, it's that bad Tommy actually misses about half of the words Eber is shouting in the phone, he does hear the sound of someone running down the stairs, or at least that’s what he makes of it. The distinct sound of a car door slamming shut is the first thing he hears loud and clearly. “To the airport and please step on it!” 

The conversation breaks up again yet he does manage to understand “do not let Leila leave the house! I should be there in about one hour and a half” and with that the communication is lost. 

The three of them are laughing over some of Adam’s epic childhood anecdotes when the doorbell rings again. “Son,” Eber says, his voice thick with emotion, holding out a stuffed hippo is his hands, letting go of the animal in favor of hugging Adam tightly. 

A hug fest is the best way to describe what happens next, they all fall into each other’s arms. Just like Adam’s mom before him, Eber reaches out to Adam’s abdomen. “Can I?” Adam guides his father’s hand, holding it in place with his own.

"Oh my goodness, boy, you sure as hell know how to give your old man the best shock of his life. I cancelled all my appointments for the next week. I know you boys are prepping for tour and I want you to know that whatever it is you need, your mom and I will take care of it and before you say anything. For once, you will listen to your father: I am going to put together the baby's bedroom. There is no way someone else is going to assemble the furniture of my grandchild.” 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, dad.” 

It’s funny, seeing Adam’s parents bicker over who’ll be doing or buying what for the baby’s room. By the time they leave, off to see Tommy’s mom for a grandparent’s gathering, Adam's parents agree, with the help of Tommy’s mom, to take care of the decoration of the baby's room. “You boys pick out the colors and the furniture; we’ll take care of the rest.” 

Going with the positive flow of their family’s support, they decide it's time to let the world in on their secret.  Tommy can hardly keep still; being excited doesn’t even come close to what’s he’s feeling. He’s euphoric, so fucking proud already. Of Adam, of their little one, of the road he and Adam took leading up to this. This last week has brought both men even closer and he wants to shout his happiness out, from the top of his lungs, to the whole fucking universe. “You ready baby?” Adam nods, equally bouncing in his seat. “On three, remember? One… Two… ” 

“Stop! Hold on. Hold on,” Adam blurts out. “Do we, like, go on three as in one, two, three and then tweet or do we go on one, two and then tweet?” 

Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up, almost all the way up to his hairline, looking at Adam like he somehow grew a second head. "What difference does it make? They're gonna crash your site in a matter of minutes anyway. Hell I wouldn't put it past them to crash Twitter as well," Tommy points out. 

Adam smiles at that. For sure, more often than not, every site he tweets about ends up crashing under the massive hits it gets. Still, it’s a long way from crashing Twitter's server. "No one breaks Twitter, babe,” Adam replies. “Breaking into Fort Knox would be easier." 

"Wanna bet?" Tommy challenges, a boyish grin on his face, holding his hand out to Adam, ready to seal the deal. 

Never one to back down on a challenge, Adam accepts. "What are we betting for?" Knowing Tommy’s dirty mind he can already guess which way it’ll be going. And for the record, he’s totally on board with it. 

"Winner gets morning head," Tommy smirks, licking his lips suggestively, “ _a whole fucking week long._ ” 

The tweet they send out is a simple _Breaking News_  and the link to a twitlonger. Whereas Adam refers to Tommy and I, Tommy refers to Adam/my boo and I. 

 

 _Dearest Glamberts,_

_A recent event is about to turn our lives upside down. While it was a shock, at first, to say the least, it is with great pride @TommyJoeRatliff and I would like to let you in on a ‘little’ secret: we’re going to be daddies!_

_Tommy and I are 13 weeks pregnant and if all goes well our baby’s due date is October 29th._

_As you can imagine, this will have an impact on the upcoming tour; after we finish touring Europe, on doctor’s orders, the tour will be interrupted for a period of 4 months. We understand some of you will be disappointed, however we want to make it clear to you all, we’re only postponing the American part of the tour. By no means will the shows be cancelled indefinitely. Tommy and I are very eager to meet you all on tour, as is the band._

_Speaking of meeting you all, it is impossible to predict how this pregnancy will affect our daily lives. There will be good days and there will, undoubtedly, be bad ones. Do not be offended should, on the bad days, Tommy, myself or both of us don’t come out to meet you guys after the show. As much as we love meeting and talking and sharing secrets with you all, we also would like the privacy to enjoy this pregnancy as much as possible given our lives in the public eye._

_An official, and more elaborate, communication will be made by TMT in the upcoming days._

_Much love to you all,_

_Adam & Tommy_

_PS: Ladies and gents, meet our little munchkin_

[ ](http://s1066.photobucket.com/user/Libra_Fietje/media/baby_zps6782edba.jpg.html)

 

Within the second or better said micro second after the boys' tweet both their feeds start to come alive. Twenty seconds in, they explode making it impossible to keep up. Trying to read the credits at the end of a movie - in fast forward mode - is easier. Five minutes later, give or take a few seconds, both of their phones starts to vibrate relentlessly. Mail after mail, call after call, text after text comes flying in. 

Tommy’s right; in just under three minutes the Glamberts knock down Adam’s website. What's even better: it takes them all but ten minutes to actually crash Twitter! 

"Holy fucking shit!" Tommy exclaims, showing the error message on his iPad to Adam "They did it! They fucking did it! They crashed Twitter!” Granted, it wasn't all on the Glamberts this time around. It was more of a joint effort, not taking the massive tweets from their fans into account, every news reporter, every blogger, every fucking somebody remotely related to the industry tweeted out to Adam and Tommy. Add to that the usual insults and hate, by a tenfold, and voilà, Twitter's servers went into overload mode. 

“I cannot wait for tomorrow morning,” Tommy salivates at the thought, “waking up with your mouth wrapped around my dick. Let me tell ya, babe, life is fucking beau-ti-ful,” he singsongs. 

When Twitter comes back online, both of their sites are still down, they quickly discover a whole "Glam-Baby-Network" saw the light of day. Fans are unpredictable. They can worship the ground you walk on one day and hate your gut the next. The somewhat anticipated fall out doesn’t come, much to their surprise the response is nothing but love, support and understanding. 

“Look at all them tweets, babe,” Adam’s chokes out, completely taken aback. It’s heart-warming, it’s overwhelming, it’s unreal. 

Tommy knows, and so does Adam, well they thought they did, how fierce and protective Adam’s fans are. The same can be said for his when it comes down to it. Turns out, both couldn’t have been more wrong. Every disrespectful, hateful tweet gets tackled by the fans working together to get douche after douche blocked. Thousands of pregnancy tips, links to parenthood sites flood their feeds. Fans are already asking where they can send gifts to the baby. 

“I gotta do it,” Tommy whispers, curling closer to Adam before typing out a tweet on his iPad. _You guys fucking rock! Words can’t express how touched @adamlambert and I are by all your love and support. #YouGuysAreTheBestOutThere_  

“It’s perfect, baby, Do it, I’ll RT it immediately.” 

Hours later, each of them sitting at the far end of the couch, their feet touching in the middle, they’ve managed to reply most of the calls and texts from their friends and family. "Baby? You forgot something on your check list," Tommy points out, adding ‘ruling out colours for the baby room’ on their to-do list. "Soundproofing the master bedroom,” he adds matter-of-factly, not bothering looking up. 

It sends a piece of strawberry straight down Adam's windpipe. "What the hell for?” 

Tommy rolls his eyes, _twice_ , smiling at the frowns that are showing up on his man’s face. There should be a law making it illegal to look that cute when frowning he thinks, sighing deeply. Adam can be so dense at , over the most obvious things, it’s almost too hilarious for words. “Babe!” He has to say it. “Are you fucking kidding me?!?” 

Adam’s genuinely looking clueless. "Why should we?” 

Tommy crawls over to where Adam’s sitting, coming to rest between Adam’s legs who’s spreading his legs to accommodate his lover without a second thought. Resting his forearms on Adam’s thighs, he takes a moment before leaning forward until his face is right above of Adam’s groin. “Buddy,” he starts affectionately, letting his fingers roam over Adam's bulge, “I’m gonna need your help on this one,” he says, trying to keep the impending giggles at bay. “You’re gonna have to stand up and make him see reason. You've got to let him know, _hard_ , you've got a say in this. A _big_ fucking say if you ask me.” Raising his head, he looks at Adam through his long eyelashes. “Baby, you’re supposed to be thinking with your fucking dick right now, not act like a retarded one.” 

“My dick?” Adam asks incredulously. “What’s my cock got to do with anything?” Not that he’s complaining though. Having Tommy anywhere near his lower region, on his knees, is always a good thing. In fact, it’s that good he’s already past half mast. “I hear what you’re saying, baby. But, I feel like... Like I missed a memo or some shit. Why are you so obsessed with this? I know we stayed in them before," Adam's thinking out loud, twisting his brain in a futile attempt to try and recall what could possibly have brought this on. "Does it help your insomnia?” 

If there is such a thing as a textbook case of not being on the same page, this is it; Adam’s totally lost and Tommy, being the textbook example of the non-understanding shitty boyfriend and all, is more than happy to make Adam see reason and give him a more elaborated explanation, _dummy style_. 

"Dude, last time I checked, I don't live in fancy ass hotel rooms, I only stay in them. I live here," he points out to their surroundings, adjusting himself so he sits on Adam’s thighs, "with you. This is our home for fuck sake! I get that we're gonna have to change some stuff around the house to make it more kids friendly and shit.” That’s putting it mildly. “I get we won't be able to spontaneously fuck on the kitchen counter anymore. I get all that, and for the record, I’m cool about that. But,” There’s no anger in his voice despite the higher pitch, only passion. Passion over a subject that means so much to him he’s not planning on backing down on this. He won’t! He’ll fight Adam on this if needed be and go all overboard-drama-queen on him. It’s not his style, but as the saying goes; ‘all is fair in love and war’. 

“I'll be damned to make any change to our sex life in and around our bed! There's no fucking way I’m going to be biting down in a fucking pillow when all I wanna do is scream my fucking head off because our kid’s sleeping down the hall!!” Tommy’s advocating his case with such fire he actually misses the moment the light bulb goes on in Adam's head. 

“And this applies to you, too! I don’t want you to hold back. Damn it, baby, I love it when you’re loud and you damn well know it, fucker! Inside that room, we won’t have to be parents, we’ll be what we’ve always have been; lovers. Loud fucking lovers. So yeah, you bet your ass I'm vetoing the shit out of this! We’re soundproofing the room and that’s final! And by the way, you’re welcome.” 

Adam’s looking at Tommy as if he suddenly hung the moon or something; all mushy and sappy with a touch of pure lust and a teaspoon of possessiveness, his strawberries completely forgotten. 

“The fuck you looking at me like that?” He knows that look. Don’t mean he can’t make Adam work for it. His bark may be mean, his bite however, inexistent. 

“So,” Adam starts, pulling Tommy up from his knees, pushing him down on the couch. Fuck, he _wants_. He _needs_ , right the fuck now! “You like it when I’m loud, huh?” 

“Fuck you, asshole!” Tommy bites back, all faux bravado. He’s totally playing hard to get. 

“You already did, baby. You knocked me up, remember?” Adam’s fighting dirty; sitting back on his heels, suggestively rubbing circles over his belly, showing a hint of flesh. It took Tommy all but to two days to have developed a huge soft spot for his (still non showing) belly. He knows how quickly it became Tommy’s undoing. Unrefined kryptonite, that’s what it is. “Wanna have spontaneous loud sex on the living room table instead?” 

He doesn’t wait for Tommy to reply, doesn’t even expect one. Instead, he backs away from Tommy, getting off of the couch, his eyes fixated on his lover, making a show of undoing his belt, of popping button after button, of slipping a hand inside his pants, hissing in pleasure at the contact of skin on skin. 

“I officially hate you.” Tommy grits through his teeth, fighting the urge to moan obscenely at the sight. _No_ , he doesn’t. He loves this man, _his_ man, more than life itself. 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, according to my timeline, this story should have 41 chapters! I say should because as I’m writing out the final chapters - it wouldn’t be the first time – my mind suddenly goes *boom* and I end up elaborating or adding something in it …. What can I say, I’m strange that way. As we speak I’m working on chapter 34, so it’s coming along great!

Sutan hadn't lied when he had all but kicked both men out of the rehearsal studio. Well, just a tiny bit and to his defence, he _does_ have a very good excuse for it. They _do_ have a lot to do, that much is true. The real reason behind his generous gesture to send Adam and Tommy home remains a mystery until both men are well on their way home. An idea, a surprise to be more accurate, has been coming together in his head. 

Now, the key element to a good surprise is to keep it a secret and thus hidden from the people you want to surprise. Duh! No sooner than they watch Adam and Tommy drive off, Sutan ushers them all back inside, a wicked smile on his face. "Guys, I've been thinking –“ Giggles erupt here and there. Sutan using those words with that up-to-no-good-face usually equals not only fun times but also a shitload of work. “We all know they are going to get a lot of shit over this and I've been playing with the idea of giving them some extra love and support. I figured we could use Adam's custom changes to have our own little momentums?”  
  
No one is against the idea, quite the opposite; it puts the expression like a kid in candy store to shame. In a matter of minutes, ideas are tossed out in the open. Some are dismissed rapidly, others approved in a split second.  
  
"I've been thinking how we could do a version of Queen's Friends Will Be Friends - " 

"A lullaby! We need to have our own version of a lullaby full of innuendo and dirty sex."  
  
"Or we can do a remake of La Cage aux Folles," James offers, "with _pregnant_ queens!"  
  
It goes without saying; the drag queens are on board with the latter! Having not one, but a couple of pregnant drag queens on stage is going to be one hell of a statement, no matter how you look or take it.  
  
Brian is on board too. "I'll talk to Adam. I'll sell him the idea of giving us free reign while he's changing. Plus, all kidding aside, we have to take into account that the further along we get into his pregnancy, he might have more difficulties changing within the set time meaning that we will have to improvise either way. Whatever we come up with, we can either set up a fake jamming session with TJ or have him improvising on the spot." 

It is agreed, as simple as that. It is agreed. 

“And then now,” James declares, “let's start calling in favors, ladies _and_ gents. We've got a fabulous fuck you statement to prepare, a tour to restyle and a baby to welcome in a world of glitter, glamour and leather. We’re going to need all the help we can get!” That is putting it mildly. 

On top of needing costumes and props for their little surprise, they also need a _little_ something for their upcoming meeting with TMT. Tommy hadn’t meant anything by it really, however his words, “Damn motherfuckers will never forget the day they decided to mess with Adam,” had hit home. They would make sure no one at TMT would _ever_ forget the day the Glamily made their statement.

Before long, all eight drag queens are on the phone pulling every string that can be pulled. Every outstanding debt gets collected and a lot of favors are being called in.  Lists are being made up: stuff they have, stuff they can borrow, stuff they need to make and stuff they need to buy. 

Adam and Tommy are, probably, still in bed when the first ones arrive at the studio the next morning. By the time it’s 08:30 AM, except for the roadies, they’re all there, carrying in an impressive amount of bags, boxes and God knows what else. 

An hour or so later, the last one of many friends (and fellow drag queens) walks in carrying anything from fabric to sewing machines to bags and bags of clothing. The costumes, especially the fake pregnant bellies and the rainbow outfits all queens will wear on Monday need to be made from scratch.

Surprisingly, and much to Jinx's amusement, Brooklyn’s "Don't be shy, honey, give it a try. Momma will hold your hand for a while" had struck golden. G turns out to be a natural at the whole couture thing. With the same ease he has at assembling weapons he glues on feathers on headpieces, sows on enough bling to last him a lifetime, adds a whole bunch of spikes to a wide variety of clothing and has a very strong opinion when he's asked for it.  
  
For his part, Jinx, aka the guy who will _not_ be their babysitter on tour, turns into the perfect assistant providing them with everything from food and drinks to taking care of those tedious tasks that take up way too much time. He's got no problem driving all over town, picking up a long list of necessities in different stores. When he gets to a lingerie store, picking up garter belts, he’s honest to God having a blast!

Amidst it all the roadies come back which Adam's throne.  It’s quite the majestic piece that is indeed in dying need of some TLC; sanding, filling it cracks and paint it with an metallic acrylic paint will restore this faded beauty to its former glory. It will be beautiful; depending on the light Adam’s throne will change color. On top of it, Adam’s signature ‘A’ will be engraved in it.

The dancers’ rehearsal is coming along great, as is the band's. It took a bit of effort to rearrange the stage now that they had the actual dimensions of Adam’s throne, as it turned out, is _does_ take up a lot a space and a lot of practice to work around the agreed queue-clues to suddenly cut Adam’s song short or picking back up where they left off before Adam’s need for a break.  
  
During one of their breaks they notice the boys' tweet to the fans. Of course they all play along retweeting said tweets and congratulating both men. Texts and calls are equally done to the proud grandparents to be. As was to be expected, they’ve all become targets for the press. The amount of calls, tweets, mails they get for comments is quite impressive, this being said the only answer they get is the same two words over and over again: “No comment!”

Now that the cat is out of the bag a second round of calling in favors, this time for the tour, can begin; anything from clothes to shoes to accessories for Adam and the band. It never happens though; two tweets is what does happen. 

_Mystery Inc. is proud to announce its exclusive collaboration w/ @adamlambert & @tommyjoeratliff during their upcoming tour! #letsgrowababy_

_Every designer at Mystery Inc. is looking forward to work with such a large group of talented people! Glamily, we are here to serve you!_

The news is greeted with much excitement! Mystery Inc. is a joint venture of several big names in the fashion industry. When it was no longer a science fiction story but reality that men could indeed carry a child it became painfully obvious that there was no such thing as paternity clothes. In the early beginnings men had no other option than to wear women's clothes or buy unflattering clothing that was a few sizes too big to start with… Luckily, not even a season later Mystery Inc. was born. 

At first, they provided paternity clothes only, offering a huge range of choice so that every man, going from the out and proud flamboyant gay man, to the more reserved guy next door to the fitness loving man would find the perfect fitting outfit.  They were also the first and only brand to offer a full badass collection, including the must have tight leather pants, to their customers. The idea behind it was pretty simple, just like little boys pants they had elasticated bands and buttons to loosen or tighten the waistband. Needless to say, it was a hit!  
  
Not even a year later Mystery Inc. also had a women's line and a unisex line. The designers at Mystery Inc. understood like no other that parents to be had special needs; comfort came first. Sexiness came second. _But_ , the first one did not exclude the second one and it showed in their clothing lines and an amazing line of underwear, for both men and women, who were so different to begin with and yet so similar in their need for support and comfort.  
  
The rehearsals for their surprise are downright hilarious! They set out some sort of script, more a guideline than anything else, wanting to keep it light, using a lot of improvisation as they go, mostly depending on the crowd’s reactions. The best impersonation of diva Adam definitely goes to Johan; the best one to imitate Tommy is, as to be expected, his life partner, Sutan. 

During rehearsal a small problem arises. As it turns out there’s a _huge_ difference between being able to see your feet (even if you never look down anymore) when you walk and not seeing a damn thing. With pillows used to create babybumps and a whole new way to walk, one’s bodyweight significantly shifts and in doing so strutting around on heels turns out to be a bit of a challenge. One by one they end up tripping at one point or another. In the end, points are awarded to those little slips based on 'elegance' and 'difficulty'. 

Brian does an amazing job with Friends Will Be Friends, changing it into an acoustic version with nothing but a keyboard and vocals. Sutan, James and Brooklyn are the only three queens who can actually sing and their voices blend together beautifully. By the time they end their rehearsal they are given a standing ovations by their friends. The sun is already down when it’s time to go home, each and every one of them dead on their feet but it's been worth it. Adam _is_ worth it, as _is_ Tommy. No doubt about it.

The first thing they notice Saturday morning when Adam and Tommy enter the studio is how relaxed both men are, the imaginary weight has been lifted of their shoulders and it shows; Adam is so very much alive, bursting with energy, taking everyone with him along for the ride. Being freed from the weight on their shoulders is not the only thing that has changed. It has never been a secret both Adam and Tommy are very affectionate, tactile people, not only towards each other, the same applies to everyone they care deeply about. 

The big change, it is impossible to miss, especially because he’s always been more open when he’s surrounded by people he loves, by people he trusts is how much more protective he’s become of Adam. It warms all their hearts when they watch Tommy walk up to Adam, snuggling close from behind, wrapping his arms lovingly, protectively over Adam’s belly. Sutan isn’t the only one whose eyes tear up when they see Tommy leaning in closer to Adam’s abdomen, lips moving as he speaks, before pressing his lips against Adam’s shirt. There is so much love in Tommy’s actions it reduces them all to goo. 

Now the band is complete they rehearse the queue-clues over and over again until they are perfect. Until Adam says they are perfect and it has them all smiling like idiots; Adam, _the boss_ , is back. 

The roadies have yet to show their surprise to Adam. Without further ado they show him his throne as soon as the band’s rehearsal is done. Honestly? It’s a beautiful, damn beautiful throne! Truth be told it surpasses every expectation he could have had. “Geez, you guys. Since when did I become rock royalty?” 

Working on their ‘up yours TMT-routine’ reaches a whole new level epicness before the rehearsal even begun. The idea, or at least that's the plan, is to walk into TMT headquarters like they own the damn place.  Walking the walk like you don't give a fuck is a piece of cake for the drag queens, even dressed as themselves, all boys _on_ heels, they kill it on the their first try. Adam's band members equally kill it, having no trouble slipping into their stage personas. The same thing cannot be said from neither the roadies nor the technicians. They try, they really do but it is not working, if anything it looks hilarious. 

In a joyful mood, strutting lessons are offered and accepted and Jinx cannot help himself, neither can G for that matter, as they burst out laughing for the umpteenth time that afternoon.   

“Oh honey there's only so much, or dare I say so little one can do with a bunch of baboons and these are the worst out there,” Brooklyn says, faux desperate. “They're straight baboons! No wonder some never get laid! It is pretty much a hopeless case…” 

“Hey! Who are you calling hopeless, Missy?!?” 

“Don't you listen to bad Missy, my precious,” James coos. “Me and tranma here are going to take good care of your manhood boys. A little touch of makeup, a little touch of this or that will make you irresistible to any girl _or_ dude in a five mile radius.” True to their word, by late Sunday afternoon, it works! 

“Ladies and gents, that’s a wrap on these last rehearsals!! Operation Up Your Ass TMT is ready to be put in action!”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you all so much for all your awesome comments! You all rock!!  
> To answer a question some asked before, no English isn't my native language, it's my third :)

_... Good morning Los Angeles, it's 7:14 AM and you’re listening to Jay on your favourite rock station KLOS on 95.5 FM. Today's horoscope is dedicated to all my fellow Libras out there and let me tell you right of the bat; this will be a success-filled day! Libras in a relationship will make a stand together with their better half resulting in intensive arguments with your common enemies who’ll end up defeated. This will not only shape and redefine your future together but also your own as an individual. Workwise, things are about to get gratifyingly hectic. Be sure to let us know what happened to you today, Libras! Call us 1-800-955-KLOS…_

"We'll I'll be damned,” Tommy snickers, turning off the radio. “Motherfucker got it right for once! What are the odds at that?" 

"You can always call the station, baby," Adam teases. 

"Don't you give me any ideas, you know I would." 

"Doubt they'll understand you though, with all the bleeping and shit. It's a nice gesture though." 

"Pffff… You suck, man."

Adam’s face lights up. Quickie or not, lost best or not, blowing Tommy in the morning is _always_ a good way to start the day.  “Indeed I did. Don’t remember you complaining though.” 

Not before long they’re pulling up the parking lot behind the studio. Turns out they’re not the first ones to arrive; Sutan’s car is there as well as is Brian’s. Izzy’s truck is there too and James’ Honda. Clearly the insomnia that hit some of the Glamily overnight is infectious; one by one are dropping in long before the rendez-vous time. 

There’s good hearted banter going back and forth as they all have breakfast together. Everybody’s excited, well aware of what they’re about to do, pumped the same way they are prior to a show. Some have brought their camera; documenting this glorious day is the main and obvious reason, having some embarrassing/fun pictures to tease the shit out of the others afterwards another. 

True to his word Payne forwards a revised version of TMT’s crappy pay-cut document to Adam and a confirmation on the time he’s expected there. _Sharp._

The starting gun is fired; it’s show time! 

Portable makeup stations are being set up with G’s help. Jinx helps out handing over an insane amount of brushes, wipes, skin care products and an even more insane amount of palettes containing all sorts of colours. Name tagged garment bags and matching shoe boxes are being hung on various places. The revised documents are being printed, filled in _and_ signed.

For the first time in their lives Jinx and G get up close and personal with not only the whole drag queen scene – and not just _one_ drag queen but _eighth_  of them – they also get a behind the scenes look of what, _probably_ , goes on at an Adam Lambert concert when they get ready. Saying it is a culture shock is an understatement. As former military men they have no problem with any form of nudity. As military men they’re used to a total lack of privacy; when you're out in a battle zone you shower, or better said cat wash whenever and however you can. Plus when you manage going to the bathroom in front of your platoon mates, with enemy bombers flying over there’s no such thing as modesty or embarrassment anymore.   

Nothing is hidden; there simply _is_  no dressing room. There is no place to cover up or whatever, the only thing done in private is the tucking.  

Being in charge of doing everybody’s makeup, minus the queens who do their own, James and Sutan are the first to take care of _business_. They want to get this part over and done with so they can focus on everything else that needs their undivided attention. “Trust an old queen, boo. You do not want to do this part in a hurry!” Both men nod in sympathy; a man’s junk _is_ a sensible piece of equipment. 

Saying it is freakishly bizarre to watch a man, wearing comfortable boxers or briefs, walk out of the room only to come back in with obvious  _missing_  dude parts, in nothing but a gorgeous lace pantie or silk undies and actually pulling it off, is mind-blowingly weird. What’s downright shocking is that it is a surprisingly very good version of weird.  

G's natural reaction: “Dude, your balls!” protectively covering his junk on instinct has them all laughing out loud. There is one very big difference between  _knowing_  drag queens tuck and  _seeing_ them tucked, right under your nose. 

This being said, it fascinates both men tremendously how all eighth drag queens, who start out as eight regular dudes like themselves, change in front of them. Raja, they learn is Sutan’s alter-ego and the unspoken leader.  James has Queen D, Brooklyn becomes Book It, Johan’s transforming into Xena, Mario turns into Ivy Stripp, Steven grows into Miss Kitty Cat, Alex morphs into Alex Andria and last but not least Dave comes to be Coco Flannel.

Out of all the fascinating transformations they’ve captured on film – with everyone’s blessing - one definitely stands out: Dave's aka Coco Flannel. Even as themselves, as guys, Dave's different. Different because all the other men have a clear feminine side, some way more pronounced than others for sure, but still, it is  _impossible_ to miss that they are all gay men. Dave on the other hand is a dude’s-dude. He’s the guy who’ll turn down a long drink but _never_ a beer. He’s also the one guy who owns at least fifty plaid shirts with absolutely _zero_ femininity in his bones. He’s the only guy with a non-entertainment related day job; working as an electrician in the family construction business along with his brother and their dad. 

Honest to God, how much more straight can a gay man be? Dave’s a classic remake of never judge a book by its cover.  

Jinx saying as much has Dave laughing, warm and carefree with a pitch distinctly higher than he has on any other given time. “If you want to know just ask, honey bee. I won't bite.”  

G takes the offer, without hesitation, asking everything that comes to mind, opening with the question that’s been dying to get out ever since Sutan and James came back tucked.  "Doesn't it hurt?" hinting to the other man's green silk undies. Dave takes no offence by the questions G throws at him, on the contrary, he answers each one with complete openness and a real sense of proud. 

"Did you know when I was in college I was the guy that hated going to prides and any other manifestations? It revolted me to no end how gay men could and would participate in something that stereotypes us so much more. Sure, I was out and proud, but for me, I didn't need to walk down the street waving flags and whatever. I was happy the way I-  Be a doll and pass me those lashes, sweet-cheeks.”  

“Ugh –“ G stammers. He has got absolutely no idea where to look. A minefield has a clearer structure to him. To his credit, he makes a genuine effort at finding those damn lashes. 

“The smallest purple box,” Dave offers, clearly amused by G’s attempt at trying to find them. 

“Get your asses over here, you two lovebirds.” Dave points to two chairs within arm’s reach. “You’ll have a better view this way…. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, back to college it is. One of my best buddies fell gravely ill and ended up needing to have a kidney transplant. None of us were matching donors so we all decided to help out in any way we could. We ended up organizing a charity auction, offering a variety of  _non-sexual_  services to the highest bidder. Sure, I admit,  I drew the short straw, but guess what mine was?” Dave smirks, taking a moment to put on his lashes. “We never knew who the generous donor was, but I ended up at gay club performing as a drag queen! Let me tell you, honey; I looked like shit! No, really, I looked like a cheap piece of trash. That being said when I came out on stage I was so nervous I was about to piss my pants! Still, seeing my friends in the crowd cheering me on, giving me a standing ovation during my entire performance… It made me feel so powerful and accomplished! Up until then I never knew I was missing a part of myself. An older queen took me under her wings, taught me everything she knew and before long Coco Flannel was born.” 

With each new layer of makeup more of Dave disappears and more of Coco appears. Every movement becomes softer, gentler, and very much more feminine and G is drawn to it all like a moth to a flame. 

The first time G and Jinx get to see a glimpse of Coco is when Dave's dark blond hair makes room for raven black long curls. She comes out to play again when G closes the zipper to her apple green dress, shamelessly flirting with the taller man, pushing her luck as she offers a threesome. 

The dress, well, all of queens’ dresses since all of them wear the same model, looks amazing!! A cha cha cha dress had been the main inspiration, providing hip-accentuating features that draws attention to this part of their bodies as does the stunning ornate beading and the beautifully draped extra fabric on the leotard coming to rest on their left leg. The close-fitting, sensual dresses have a dazzling low cut open back. It’s also short, very short, giving miles of legs a place in the spotlight as they walk the walk.  

When she puts on her high heels, Dave is no more. Coco Flannel on the other hand is more than ready. She’s so much more outgoing than Dave; she’s cocky whereas he’s more reserved. Basically, she’s his very own female version of Edward Hyde. Coco's absolutely stunning, and it's with great pride both men offer their arm to this fierce, damn sexy creature of the night. "Ma'am, it would be our pleasure to help you with your headpiece."  

“Awww, aren’t you two sweethearts. Tell you what,” she whispers, loud enough so they’re the only ones who can hear her. “You boys can help me out with another kind of head,  _down below_ ,” she grins, all predator and sexual domination. G laughs at the unexpected mischievousness, winking back playfully. “Doubt my man‘s gonna wanna share, he gets _very_ possessive.” On key, Jinx pulls his man closer, making a show of growling low in his throat. “He ain’t the pussy loving kind, ma’am.” 

Meanwhile, oblivious to what is happening around them Adam and Tommy find – and are given -moments to themselves. Not much is said, to both non-verbal communication can say more than a thousand words. In those private moments fingers follow invisible lines onto the other one's skin, lips nibble words only they understand. 

In the end they're the second to last ones who need to have their makeup done and change. Queen D takes care of Tommy while Raja takes care of her long-time friend. Both have a very clear vision of what needs to be done, working together a well-oiled machine. When asked, the only indication Adam gets is a ‘fabulous tandem-look’. 

Both men work quietly, constantly checking the progress on the other, forbidding Tommy and Adam to look at the other one until they’re finished. “Damn,” Raja says, guiding Adam’s head with her finger. Queen D does the same with Tommy’s face, applying the final touch to his lip gloss.

 “You can say that again.” The lip gloss hasn't even been put down yet when both jump out of their chair, looking at their reflection before turning towards each other. 

Adam beats him to it. "How do I look?" 

Forget drop dead gorgeous. Stunning? Stunning doesn't even come close. "I- ... Fuck… Baby…" Tommy doesn’t know how to think anymore, this is _by far_ Sutan's best work on his man: Adam’s eyes are contoured with a thousand shades of gold, at least that's what it looks like, accentuating their deep grey colour even more and then it hits him; his makeup is exactly the same as Adam’s, except the main colour for his is a thousand shades of silver. Lost for words he acts, following this feeling deep in his gut he takes one of Adam's hands and presses it against his crotch. "Yeah?" Tommy doesn't reply, letting his swelling manhood do all the talking for him. "You too, baby," Adam whispers against his lips, voice strained. "You too." 

“Ruin each other’s makeup and I will have both your balls for breakfast,” Raja warns just before they’re about to kiss. 

“But… But, vayvee,” Tommy pouts, “I wanna kiss my man!” 

Raja’s not impressed, not by a long shot. “Balls. For breakfast, vayvee.” Unlike the others, specially Adam, she’s immune to his someone-just-stole-my-puppy-look. 

“Jinx, darling, you have the honour at being the last one,” she calls from across the room causing the tall man to freeze. “Euh… I… I don’t-” he stammers. This is _miles_ outside of his comfort zone. 

“I’m serious, princess. Get your ass over here so I can glam up that face of yours.” 

“Sutan –“ He gets a deadly glare back. “I’m sorry, my bad… Raja, I appreciate the gesture, it’s just-“ 

Izzy is having none of it. “Bro. Dude, look at me,” he urges, pointing to himself, all glammed up with heavy eyeliner, matching black nails and some surprisingly good tasting thing on his lips. “Consider this your rite of passage. Now, you are going to man up marine, sit your ass down in Raja’s chair and let her do her thing.” 

"Go on, baby," G pushes, a soft blush colouring his cheeks. "Would love to see how you'll look, all glammed up and stuff." 

"Alright.” He's not convinced, _at all_.  “Work your magic." The idea of having makeup anywhere near his face is freaking him the fuck out. 

Raja can feel his apprehension; it comes off of him in waves. “Gimme some credit here, honey. Tell you what, let me do my thing, if you don’t like it, we’ll take it all off. No harm done.”  

He’s been to battle; surely he can pull this off, he _should_ be able to, one way or another. “Ok.” 

"Would you mind taking off your shirt?" It’s a small step, it’s already hanging open and Jinx does, suddenly very much aware that they’re _all_ actually watching him.  

Coco falls in love, _instantly_ , unable to resist reaching out and touch. “Honey,” she calls over to G,” I’m totally stealing this gorgeous piece of _man-wood_.” On top of a mighty fine looking upper body, Jinx's skin is covered with 2 large tattoos; one in the middle of his back, mostly covered by his white wife beater and one covering his entire left upper arm. 

"What does it stand for?" 

“It's a tattoo I had designed representing my medical background and the Special Forces. The one on my back is one G and I got when we both left the army.” 

They all regroup around Raja as she upgrades Jinx. True to her word, no foundation goes anywhere near Jinx's skin keeping it minimal, what she does do is focus on Jinx’s green-grey eyes. In an attempt to ease his obvious nerves, Raja tells Jinx everything she does and why. A soft smokey-eyes and a gloss, a shade darker than his lips is as far as she goes. "No peaking. Wait till you’re dressed." 

"Dressed?!?" Jesus, he’s going to die of a heart attack at this rate. 

"Unless you wanna go in a thong?" 

"No! No, dressed is better."  

The dressing part isn't actually dressing up, it’s accessorising. Jinx’s basic outfit still consists of his old washed blue jeans, his white wife beater, standard Navy Boots and his dog tags. What’s new are two large leather wristbands, a new leather belt, one that's apparently made for his body and for the first time in his life black nail polish. 

Even without all this Jinx is a beautiful man. Now he looks like the hot guy you see in underwear commercials, the wet dream of many dick loving people and right now, they very much love it. “Alright ladies, I'm going to say this once and only once,” G closes the distance to an actual blushing man under all that feminine attention. “This man is mine and mine alone. You can drool all you want though.” 

Before it’s time to leave they all pose for pics. The roadies, the queens, who’s outfits - with the exception of Raja - when standing side by side form an actual rainbow; Ivy Strip is dressed in red, Alex Andria in orange, Xena’s radiant in bright yellow, Coco in green, Queen D looks amazing in indigo, Kitty Cat’s showing off in royal blue and last but not least Book It looks fabulous in purple. 

The band, the roadies with the queens, Adam with and without Tommy, every possible combination is immortalised, every possible face and pose is made. Even G doesn’t escape the whole paparazzi momentum, posing proudly beside his man and Izzy or being a total goofball with his arms full of a screaming Coco. 

TMT head office has state of the art open floor offices. Meeting and bathrooms not included there isn't a single wall on the entire floor, only glass. The girl working reception and every other person with an unobstructed view to the elevator door has no idea what's going on, absolutely _nothing_ could have prepared her or the others for that matter when not one, not two you but eight drag queens come striding in, turning the small walking space from the elevator door to her desk into a high fashion runway wearing full over the top costumes and unbelievable looking tulle headpieces. Leading the parade, Raja’s looking even more exotic in her white outfit. At her sign, one by one, they take their place, waiting for the others. 

When the door opens again Adam’s roadies and technicians are next, all thirteen of them, looking like a bunch of badass motherfuckers; the personalized version of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy the queens put them through is a success! The girls’ chest fills with proud as they watch ‘their boys’ doing their thing. For most of them, wearing nail polish or eyeliner had never _ever_ crossed their minds, yet they all went with it, without ever complaining. The learning process, the transformation had been hilarious, downright painful to watch at times. Now, with the right leather clothes, some, actually a lot of strategically placed spikes and some awesome boots they all feel as badass as they look. Add a pair of fingerless gloves to that and the mandatory rock star shades and any average bunch of straight baboons turns into a bunch of hot, fierce deadly _manly_ men. They too, on Raja’s sign, take their position on the opposite side of the girls, forming an impressive looking honour guard. 

The guest of honour is next. Head held high; Adam’s ready for whatever they’re about to throw at him, with no one but two alluring men at his side. Dressed to kill in obscenely tight laced leather pants, a black semi see-through shirt, one dangerously looking spiked leather jacket and his favourite wedged boots he’s oozing confidence and dominance. His arm comes to rest over one of Tommy’s shoulders, pulling him near, already feeling his stage boner coming to life.  Keeping the tandem look in mind, Tommy’s also dressed in skin tight leather pants and his inseparable leather jacket, a - for the occasion - specially made ‘Stay Calm and Go Fuck Yourself’ t-shirt and a pair of high Doc Martens boots. Just like on stage he goes pliant in Adam’s arms, tucking himself close to his side. 

Jinx, who’s been nervous about ‘werking his booty’ in his new look does exactly that. What’s more, he’s enjoying it! The jaw-to-the-floor-goldfish look on people’s face is totally worth it. 

Last but by no means least are Adam’s remaining band members. They too are in full leather outfits, a don’t fuck with us look on their face. 

"Honey, I’m up here you know,” Raja tells the still not sure where to look receptionist. “Be a doll, love and tell them Adam Lambert has arrived. He’s got an appointment.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really curious this time on how people will react... So please, tell me what you all think! Don't be shy, I won't bite.


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